The Right Direction, Part 2
by JordanMcGee
Summary: Redemption or Retaliation?
1. Prologue

**The Right Direction: Part 2**

**Redemption or Retaliation?**

_**"**__**We're gonna take our boys and we're gonna get the hell out of here. Start fresh somewhere. Be a real family." **__**To his everlasting regret, Jax failed to honor that promise to Tara – and now she's gone, along with every hope he has for his own future. But he still has a chance to carry out what she risked everything to do: save their sons from a legacy of crime and violence. Or will he be derailed - by death or prison - as he pursues his murderous quest for vengeance?**_

"**Sons of Anarchy" belongs to Kurt Sutter. I own nothing (except my OC – who's inspired by a SOA character, can you guess who?).**

_AN:_

_Hi Friends, welcome to Part 2!_

_For those of you who haven't read Part 1, that's OK, you should be able to read Part 2 without it._

_As some of you know, I started writing this story out of disappointment (and absolute disgust) over S6; since I refuse to watch S7 (or even read recaps/reviews), creating this story is the only way I can say goodbye to my favorite TV couple._

_Part 2 has been outlined for months, and I wrote the Prologue and Epilogue before I started writing Part 1, so any similarities to anything happening/happened on the show are pure coincidence. That said, since I've always liked Annabeth Gish (especially her X-Files days), I've included Sheriff Althea Jarry vs. using the OC Sheriff that I'd originally intended. However, I have no idea what kind of characterization she has on the show so please don't be disappointed if my version of Sheriff Jarry is different._

_Finally, since Tara was - by far - my favorite character, there's no way I'm writing this without her. So expect a LOT of flashbacks._

* * *

**PROLOGUE:**

Taking a smoke break, Mo stands outside the garage and watches the car - obviously a rental - pull into the WH Motors' parking lot, wondering what the driver could possibly want. In his experience, most rental car drivers don't care about repairing a problem since they could always complain and get a different car. His curiosity's piqued even further as the driver steps out and starts looking around. Judging from his short and perfectly cut blond hair, pressed slacks, tweed jacket and expensive shoes - the guy's definitely not from around here.

Tweed Jacket (as Mo decides to call him) spots Mo immediately and starts walking towards him, pulling off his sunglasses as he approaches. There's something vaguely familiar about the twenty-something, tall, broad-shouldered stranger that Mo can't quite place so he waits for the guy to state his business in hopes that could jar his memory.

"Hi there, you know where I can find the owner of this place?" Instantly on alert, Mo stiffens, his fingers tightening around his cigarette. Most customers look for help from any of the employees, never asking for the owner or a manager unless there's a complaint. Since Mo's never seen this guy before, he doubts there's a complaint - rather another problem altogether. But he knows there's nothing to worry about with the auto shop; he and his business partner own this place outright and run a tight ship. The only drama in Mo's life has been with his dad, and he's been clean for years.

"You're looking at him," Mo informs the guy before taking a long drag off his cigarette. "Moby Harland; the H in WH Motors. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Bobby Munson." Tweed Jacket surveys the parking lot and the open garage bays before turning his light blue eyes back on Mo. "I've been told that he hangs out here sometimes."

Narrowing his eyes, Mo switches on to high alert. Was Tweed Jacket some kind of cop or a fed? Bobby's definitely had some colorful history, but the he's harmless now. "Who's asking?" Crossing his arms, he glares at Tweed Jacket warningly.

"Let's just say I'm a friend of a friend." Tweed Jacket smiles and jams his hands into his pockets. "Look, I'm no threat - not a cop or any kind of law enforcement. I just want to talk to the man."

Mo regards him silently, trying to decide if the guy's on the level or full of shit; with a drug-addict father, he's more than used to the latter. "Well, 'friend of a friend,' Bobby's not here right now. Why don't you leave me a number you can be reached, and I'll give it to him the next time he's here."

Tweed Jacket hesitates, then sighing resignedly, he pulls out his wallet and extracts a business card. "I'm staying in town for a while so tell him to call the mobile number." With that, he turns and heads back to his rental; taking another long look around before getting in the car and driving off the lot.

Once the rental car disappears around the corner, Mo looks down at the thick white business card and nearly falls over. He practically runs to the office and throws the door open - startling the shit out of his partner, who's hunched over the desk reading spreadsheets. "What the hell, Mo?" Kenny growls at him.

"You will _never _fucking believe who was just here looking for Bobby." Mo hand him the business card, still buzzing in excitement over the discovery.

Kenny's eyes nearly bug out as he stares at the card, his mouth dropping open in shock. "Holy fucking shit."

Mo shakes his head - unable to believe what just happened, who he just met; "I thought he looked familiar; just like his old man - better dresser, though. Bobby's gonna freakin' love this."

"Yeah," Kenny agrees. "That…is an understatement. You should give him a call and tell him to get over here; don't tell him why - let it be a surprise."

As Mo skips off to call Bobby, Kenny looks back down at the card; tracing the embossed lettering, he smiles slowly, fondly. "Abel Teller, M.D. Your mom would be proud."


	2. Find Your Own Truth

_AN:_

_Thanks for all the great feedback on the Prologue! You guys are so great! However, I won't be picking up that thread until the Epilogue because we do need to find out what happens to Jax and Thomas (and Gemma). But hopefully I can make the journey interesting for you._

_Since this is new story territory, I'm going to write shorter chapters in an effort to update more frequently - don't want anyone to get lost (which always happens to me when I wait too long to read an update)._

* * *

**Chapter 1: ****FIND YOUR OWN TRUTH**

"_That was Rosen, Teller's attorney. They'll be here tomorrow morning at nine." Patterson hangs up the phone and fixes her gaze on the blond man sitting in one of her visitors' chairs - Nick Reese, the state's Chief Deputy Attorney General and her new partner in prosecuting Charming's most shocking double murder case in decades._

"_Good." He nods approvingly. "I think you should question him - he'll talk to you; Althea and I will watch from behind the interview glass."_

"_Althea?" Patterson wrinkles her brow questioningly. Who else was the AG going to assign to babysit her on this case?_

"_Lieutenant Althea Jarry." Reese hands her a file. "The new head of the San Joaquin Sheriff's Department, Charming-Morada Sub-Station. Eli Roosevelt's replacement and the lead investigator on this case, effective immediately."_

* * *

The first time Jax remembers ever feeling this gut-wrenching pain that wracked his whole body, he was eight years old and it'd been completely his fault. His second grade class had gone on a field trip to Mercer Caverns and - although he'd been stoked to spend a school day out of school - walking around a cold, dark cave wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Bored out of his mind (as their teacher had separated him and Opie to prevent the two of them from getting into trouble together) and inspired by _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ (which his dad had just taken him, Opie and Tara to see at the dollar theatre), he'd used the lure of finding the bones of prehistoric animals or people to convince Tara, his field trip "buddy," to slip away from the group and explore on their own. He knew her drive to learn and shared fondness for Indiana Jones ran deeper than her regard for the rules. Unfortunately, their future as explorers got cut short when - ignoring Tara's warning to walk slowly near the edge - he slipped on a rock and tumbled hell knows how many feet down to the wide, rocky ledge below.

_It feels like his whole body's on fire; he can't move, can't even breathe without every inch of him screaming in pain. __Lying on the cold cave floor, Jax assures himself that he's still alive - otherwise he wouldn't be hurting like hell, and his ears wouldn't be ringing like a freakin' fire alarm. It's the sound of hysterical sobbing that finally penetrates the roaring in his head and forces him to open his eyes._

"_Wake up, Jax. Please wake up. Please, Jax. Please…" In the dim light he can see Tara on her knees beside him, swiping at the tears pouring down her face. Somehow she must've managed to scale down the steep and slick cave hill, foregoing safety in her panic to make sure he'd survived the fall._

"_I'm…okay," he wheezes, patting her leg reassuringly, then winces from the stabbing pain that shoots through his ribs. But his efforts produce the desired effect as she stops crying and clasps his hand, which - to his surprise - doesn't hurt at all._

"_Are you sure?" Worried green eyes scan him from head to toe. "You fell a long way and landed pretty hard."_

_Gritting his teeth, he tests different parts of his body with small movements to check what's still working. It stings like hell, but to his relief, most of him seems to be fine - except his left arm and shoulder, which he can't seem to move, and the constant, biting ache in his side._

"_Do you think you can climb up the hill?" Assessing the difficult climb, she looks at him doubtfully. "Or if you're okay, I can go for help."_

"_No!" He tightens his grip on her hand. Letting her go for help might be the smart thing to do, but he can't bear the idea of lying in the dark all alone. "Don't leave me…please, Tara." Crap, he's going to cry; he can feel his eyes start to sting and furiously blinks the tears away so she won't think he's a baby._

_Tara nods then flashes him a small smile that sends a comforting warmth coursing through him despite the coldness of the cave. "Okay." Stretching out beside him, she gives his hand a squeeze. _

_He doesn't know how long they lie there on the cold cave floor waiting to be rescued; it's weird, but somehow he's not freaked out about being lost and possibly injured - he still hurts all over, but now the pain's doesn't feel as bad as before. At first they try yelling at the top of their lungs for someone to find them - which doesn't last long because his chest starts to ache, and she realizes that they'll probably lose their voices if they continue. She reasons that since the cave walls echo, all they have to do is keep talking and their voices will carry - hopefully loudly enough for someone to overhear. It's a good plan, except all this talking makes his side ache even more._

_So she tells him about the book she just finished reading - the adventures of a poor farm boy who saved his money to buy two dogs and how the three of them became a champion raccoon hunting team. At first he wonders why the hell Tara would ever read a book about hunting raccoons, but then listening to her, he becomes engrossed in the story about bravery and loyalty, love and family. Listening intently to every detail, he begs her to tell him how it ends because there's no way he'd be able to wait long enough to read it himself. As she continues, the tears he'd fought earlier come back with a vengeance; his mom taught him about death a while ago - it's sad enough to make him cry, even though he can't imagine loving anyone so much that he'd rather die than live without them._

"_They say that red ferns aren't real," Tara tells him. "The book says there's an Indian legend about a little boy and girl who get lost in a blizzard and freeze to death; when their bodies are found, there's a big, beautiful red fern that's grown between them. According to the legend, only an angel can plant the seeds of a red fern - because where it grows, it'll never die because that place will always be sacred."_

_Jax stares at her and swallows hard. "Is that what you think will happen to us? That no one's going to find us until after we freeze to death in here?" He feels sick inside at the thought of never seeing his family or Opie again._

"_Nope." She reaches over to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, which he finds oddly soothing (he usually hates it when people mess with his hair). "The whole class is probably looking for us now - and I'm sure your mom and dad and all their friends will be here to look for you, too. Don't be scared, Jax." He wants to argue that he's not scared, that he's too tough to be scared, but the words just won't come out; instead, he inches closer to her, relaxing as she squeezes his hand again and smiles at him. "Whatever happens, I'm right here."_

* * *

"_Whatever happens, I'm right here."  
_Ever since they were kids, Tara would say that to him any time she'd sense his anxiety. But the day they got lost in the cave - when he'd broken his ribs and left shoulder, when she'd curled up next to him on that cold cave floor and held his hand for hours - was the first time. There's nothing in the whole goddamn universe that he wouldn't give to hear her say it now…

Waking up alone in their bed, he feels like complete shit; his head's throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch, no doubt caused by the empty bottles of Jack and Jameson tossed on the floor. It's like right after Tara left him to go to college - when he'd get up up feeling like fucking death every morning for three years; hell, ever since the first time she invited his fifteen-year-old self to spend the night in her bed, he's never been able to sleep soundly without her next to him. And last night…the crushing realization that he'd never again feel her curled up next to him had smacked like an iron fist, over and over. More than once throughout the night, he'd thought about reaching for his gun instead of the bottles of whiskey. It was just the thought of their sons and the promise he'd made to Tara to take care of them that kept him from giving into his grief-fueled insanity.

"Jax!" Oh fucking hell. The sound of a slamming door and his mother's irate voice breaks through the pounding in his skull. Eyeing the clock on the nightstand, he realizes he only has a few minutes before Rosen's supposed to pick him up for the meet with Patterson. He really can't deal with Gemma's shit right now. Despite his body's aching protest, he pulls himself out of bed; good thing he'd passed out fully dressed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gemma bursts into the room, her eyes wild with both anger and concern. "Your doctor never cleared you to leave."

"Morning to you, too, Mom." Squeezing her arm, he brushes past her to head for the bathroom. No time for a shower, which is just as well - he doesn't give a flying fuck about what Patterson thinks of his appearance. But maybe brushing his teeth will get the taste of shit out of his mouth.

She picks up one of the empty bottles from the floor before following him to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, she glares at him, waving the empty bottle in his face. "Jesus Christ, Jackson - you just had a fucking heart attack that put you in a goddamn coma. What the hell are you trying…"

Ignoring her tirade, he spits out the toothpaste and splashes cold water on his face. "Where are the boys?"

The mention of her grandsons diffuses her temper somewhat. "Since I was under the impression that you were still flat on your back in the hospital, I checked Abel and Thomas into daycare before I came to see you. When your doctor told me that you took off, I left them there while I hunted down my idiot son."

He says nothing for a long moment, wiping his face with the towel. "How are they?" He'd asked about them before, but so caught up in his own pain, he didn't really listen to her response. Just that she had to tell them that their mommy was in heaven and not coming home again.

Gemma swallows hard as if trying to fight her own emotions. "They miss their mother," she replies simply. "And their father."

Jax grips the towel, not sure what to say; he's certainly no fucking rock of emotional strength right now. But fortunately, Rosen's sudden appearance saves him from having to come up with some bullshit response.

"The door was open…" The impeccably dressed attorney stops short as he assesses the tense scene in front of him: his disheveled client, who probably still reeks of trying to drown himself in whiskey, and his client's wild-eyed mother brandishing an empty Jack Daniels bottle. "Am I interrupting something?"

Shaking his head, Jax tosses the towel to the counter. "I'm ready." Turning to his mother, he pecks her on the cheek. "We're going over to talk to the DA. Leave the boys in day care. I'll pick them up this afternoon."

She scrambles after him as he starts to follow Rosen out the front door, grabbing his arm before he walks outside. "But Jax… You can't stay here. You can't let them stay here. Not after…"

Gently extricating himself from her grasp, he gives her shoulder another squeeze. "I appreciate everything you've done to take care of them, Mom. But I need to take it from here. That's what Tara would've wanted."

* * *

In the journals he'd started writing for his sons, he once told them how hard it was for him not to hate; how he's seen the destruction caused by those who've let their hate change them into the things they've sworn they'd never be. There was a time in his life when he didn't hate his adversaries; they were just obstacles to be used and/or dispatched as he did SAMCRO's business. But after the brutal chain of events leading to Tara's crushed hand and Opie's death, it'd become impossible not to give into the violent hate that burned inside of him - for Clay, for Pope and all the fuckers responsible for killing Opie, for Galen, for Wendy, for Toric…the fucking list kept growing.

Sitting in the DA's conference room, Jax glares at Patterson as the violent darkness surges inside him once again. He'd understood that she had a job to do in getting justice for four young victims of the school shooting, respected that she had the balls to confront him at Scoops on that fateful day - reminding him of his priorities as a husband and father. But what he can't forget or forgive - not in a million fucking years - was how she'd manipulated Tara's fear and desperation to further her own ends.

And now, even after hearing Jax recount the worst day of life - of his whereabouts after leaving the motel, of the blow-by-blow account of what he'd thought and what he'd done after coming home to the horror in his kitchen - she's refusing to disclose any leads or evidence they have about the case, spouting some fucked-up bullshit about him being a Person of Interest in the murders; that his alibi was useless because the SAMCRO President could order a hit as easily as he could order a pizza. It takes every fucking ounce of his goddamn self-control not to lunge across the table and choke the life out of the sanctimonious bitch.

As if sensing Jax's increasingly dangerous agitation, Rosen shoots him a quelling look - a silent reminder of what they'd discussed on the ride here. The lawyer warned that the DA would try to rile Jax into saying something that could hurt them, that even the most innocuous comment could be twisted into something that could land him in jail. Jax had scoffed, noting his long history with law enforcement assholes who'd tried and failed to get the better of him - only to be subdued into silence when Rosen quietly reminded him that none of those instances dealt with Tara's murder. _"She'll use your rage and your grief and spin that into guilt - guilt that could be convincingly played back to a grand jury. All she needs is an indictment, and that'll land you back in jail because of the parole violation." _

He manages to maintain a grim control over his temper for the rest of the meeting, responding to Patterson's questions with curt one-word answers, seething silently as she continues to side-step all of Rosen's questions about the investigation.

"I have to insist that you tell us the status of Tara's autopsy." Despite Patterson's refusal to divulge even the smallest of details regarding the case, Rosen seems unfazed in his determination to glean as much information as possible. "It's been a week; surely the medical examiner's office isn't that busy. My client would like to bury his wife."

Jax clenches his fists, once again fighting against the emotions that threaten to crush him; until this moment, he'd refused to talk or even think about burial arrangements for Tara - doing so seemed so brutally final. He can't fucking bear the idea of putting her into the ground.

"You know that autopsy reports usually take about six to eight weeks," Patterson replies. "However, due to the complexity of this case, it could take as long as 90 days before we can get final cause of death." She focuses her assessing gaze on Jax. "But the ME is finished with his exam. Your wife's body will be released to you within 48 hours."

* * *

"What the fuck was the point of that little dance?" Jax rages as the elevator doors close; Christ, he hates lawyers - present company excepted, for now.

Rosen shrugs. "It's clear that she's got nothing to pin the murders on you. Hell, I'm pretty sure she doesn't suspect you at all. You could've killed Tara when you found her in the park; instead you secured her freedom by agreeing to a deal that would've had you serving a couple of decades in prison. Patterson's many things, stupid isn't one of them."

Exiting the elevator, they spot a trio of SAMCRO members hovering near the building entrance. Rosen grabs Jax's arm before he can join them. "Everyone in this county knows you've been crazy in love with Tara since you guys were kids. I think Patterson's afraid of the bloodbath that's sure to come when you set SAMCRO on the course for retaliation. Maybe she believes locking you up is the only way to stop you from becoming California's most prolific serial killer…Jax, you need to be smart about this. Think about your kids."

Running his hand through his hair, Jax exhales loudly; the pounding in his head's returned with a vengeance. "Thanks. I'll be in touch."

"Yeah, call me later today. I need you to come to my office sometime in the next couple of days, we have some things to talk about."

Jax wrinkles his brow in confusion; fucking hell, he's got no more patience for this legal shit. He needs to spend time with his boys, plan their escape from this fucking town. "I thought you said she's got nothing on me."

"It's not about Patterson." Now it's Rosen's turn to exhale loudly. "Ally called me yesterday. She's got Tara's will."


	3. Taking Care of What's in Front of Me

**Chapter 2: TAKING CARE OF WHAT'S IN FRONT OF ME**

"_Well that was interesting." Sheriff Althea Jarry greets Patterson as the DA enters the observation room after spending the past two hours with the Biker King and his lawyer on the other side of the two-way mirror. "A couple times there I thought Teller was going to lose it, and we'd have to run in and save your ass."_

"_Glad to know you had my back," Patterson replies dryly. "The man's a ticking time bomb. We either need to find a way to send him back inside or break all speed records to find the person who killed his wife. Otherwise, I warn you that the body count will be beyond anything any of us has ever seen before."_

"_What do you think, Nick?" Jarry looks over at the man who's still staring at the now empty chair that Teller had occupied during the two hour interview. "Find some way to violate his parole as a civic safety measure?"_

_Reese remains silent, as if considering his answer; then turning to face the two women, he shakes his head slowly. "No. We'll continue to withhold any information pertaining to the case - having no leads should slow down his vigilantism and keep the good people of San Joaquin County safe for now. In the meantime, Althea, look into Roosevelt's jacket; see if anyone he'd put away is now tasting freedom thanks to the county's all-to-generous parole board."_

_Jarry and Patterson exchange looks; if there were any lingering questions as to who'd be calling the shots on this case, they were gone now. "You got it, boss." Jarry nods at him and then Patterson before exiting the room._

* * *

"For a man who looked like he was at death's door a couple of days ago…" Bobby pulls Jax into a bear hug. "You look like a man at death's door. And smell like a distillery."

"Fuck off." Jax manages a small smile before turning to hug Chibs then Tig. "Gemma tell you I'd be here?" No doubt after he left with Rosen, his mother probably called the ice cream shop to tell the guys so they'd have his back after the meet with the DA.

Nodding, Chibs eyes him critically. "Bobby's right. You look like shit, Jackie. What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?"

"Got tired of the food," Jax snaps at him. "Look, I don't need a bunch of fucking blue hairs nagging at me. I'm fine."

"Are you?" Bobby asks quietly, his gentle tone causes Jax to stiffen and look away, suddenly unable to bear the grief in their eyes - it would break him, and he can't keep walking around like a goddamn wounded animal. Not when there's too much to do, too much at stake.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he squares his shoulders and faces his Brothers. "Look, I appreciate the concern. But really, I'm fine. And that's even after spending the last couple of hours getting grilled by our friendly DA."

"About what?" Bobby grouses incredulously. "She can't possibly think you had anything to do with what happened to Tara or Roosevelt. And you were with us when…when…it happened. Hell, we all told her that when you were in the hospital."

Jax shakes his head. "Rosen thinks she's trying to find a way to send me back inside before I can find the person who killed Tara; afraid it'll get bloody."

"Before _we_ find him…" Tig clarifies, his blue eye hard, as Bobby and Chibs nod grimly in agreement. "We're in this too, Brother. And it _will_ get bloody."

Bobby's phone rings before Jax can respond. "It's Barosky," Bobby tells them before stepping away to take the call. Just as well, he's not ready to talk about his plans yet - not even to his Brothers.

Turning to Chibs and Tig, he steers them away from talk of retaliation. "By the way, thanks for getting Rosen back on board." Jax knows he's damn lucky that Rosen agreed to represent him after the long-time SAMCRO lawyer moved on to bigger fish, not to mention after Jax'd terrified Lowen into leaving town. "He's still a pompous prick, but the fucker knows what he's doing."

Chibs shakes his head. "We didn't hire him; didn't even get the chance. He showed up at the hospital not too long after you did. Gemma must've called him." Nodding, Jax makes a mental note to thank his mom for calling in a favor from the man she's known since he was a kid.

Bobby hangs up the phone and walks back towards them, a thoughtful frown furrowing his face. "Barosky heard from one of his cop friends that we've got a new Sheriff in town, fresh from the Stockton Organized Crime Unit. And her number one priority is to find Eli Roosevelt's killer. And Tara's, of course."

"Her?" Tig smirks. "We got a Sheriff in a skirt? Sounds fun."

"Althea Jarry." Bobby informs them. "Apparently she and Charlie are _not_ members of each other's fan clubs; had more than a few run-ins when he was still with the PD. Which means she's probably not so flexible with the rule book."

"Great, just what we need…another Hale." Chibs scowls. "When does she start?"

"According to Barosky's source, she's already here." Bobby fixes his gaze on Jax. "Word around Stockton PD is that Roosevelt's murder riled up a lot of the state's top brass. Jarry was handpicked. Sounds like maybe they're thinking Roosevelt was the primary target."

Jax flashes back to the meeting with Patterson and the long rectangular mirror he'd faced the entire time; no doubt the new Sheriff was on the other side, taking in the show. "Maybe. Rosen and I went to see Cain yesterday." He doesn't think telling his Brothers equates to breaking his word not to divulge what the deputy disclosed; it's not like any of them would go squealing to the DA. "Cain said he heard that the Attorney General sent one of her minions to babysit Patterson on the case. Rosen thinks the state might use this to get the death penalty back in play - at least for cop killing." He feels sick at the thought that Tara might've been collateral damage in some sick fuck's plan to kill Roosevelt; there could've been so many other times to take down the Sheriff without robbing two little boys of their mother - without robbing him of his future. Once again, the murderous rage and thirst for blood-soaked revenge bubble to the surface; it's everything he can do to force it down.

"Well, we'll just have to be careful." Chibs rubs Jax's shoulder. "We'll find who did this to Tara, Jackie. He'll pay…"

Jax doesn't tell them about his decision to put his sons ahead of retaliation; that after the coroner releases Tara's body to him, he's taking the boys and getting the hell out of Charming. He knows that they'll be stunned and likely pissed, but they'd let him go; it's brutal irony that Tara's death would be the one thing that could set him free. Instead he remains silent, there's a few things he needs to do before putting his plan into motion.

* * *

The meeting with Patterson wasn't a complete time suck; Jax did learn that Tara's body was still at the Coroner's Office, and that the physical exam was finished. That means the Medical Examiner could tell him exactly how Tara died; Jax doesn't need to wait for a final autopsy report with the tox screen - with so much of her blood spattered all over their kitchen, he knows that she hadn't died from some drug or poison.

He begs off a Church meeting claiming to be tired, but after the guys drop him off at home, he jumps on his bike and heads off to Stockton. Willing or not, the ME's going to tell Jax what he wants to know.

After parking his bike, he heads to the back of one of the buildings. Most normal people wouldn't have a working knowledge of the Sanwa Sheriff's offices, but Jax isn't exactly like most normal people. Back in the days when they used to work with Trammel, the late Sheriff would more or less tell him and Clay everything about how the different offices ran, including how to break into the ME's lab (which they had to do a couple of times on Club business). And after a few minutes of close observation, Jax could tell nothing's changed; employees still didn't lock the side door next to the ME's lab so that they could grab quick smoke breaks.

Slipping through the unlocked door, Jax finds his target almost immediately - recognizing the skinny, balding man from Diosa; Barosky had pointed him out as one of the various community leaders who frequented the Stockton whorehouse. Walking up behind the man, Jax grabs his arm and hisses in his ear. "We need to talk…somewhere private." Jax can tell the man's about to protest so he tightens his grip. "Right now…unless you want your wife to know where you spend your Tuesday nights."

The ME stiffens then nods, leading Jax into a small lab further away from all the other offices. "Who are you?" Glaring at Jax, he rubs his arm. "What do you want? You're not supposed to be in here."

"Who I am is not important," Jax tells him coldly. "All I want to know is cause of death for Tara Knowles. And don't feed me any bullshit about waiting for the final report. You know what killed her." Jax taps his fingers across the knife strapped to his pants. "And if you're smart…you'll tell me, and then we can forget all about this little meeting."

The man's eyes widen in fear and then recognition. "You're that biker! Dr. Knowles' husband…"

Before Jax can reply, the door opens and a tall, blond man he's never seen before steps inside. "Well, this is…not a surprise. Run along, Dr. Morris - Lieutenant Jarry's looking for you. I can continue this conversation with Mr. Teller." But before the ME can scurry away, the other man blocks his exit. "Let's just keep this incident to the three of us, understood?" The cold menace in the man's tone belies the polite request, and Dr. Morris - no doubt anxious to get away - nods vigorously before practically running out of the room.

Jax eyes the stranger warily; the man's too well-dressed, too perfectly groomed to be from around here. Not even Rosen wears suits and shoes like this guy. Then suddenly it hits him who the man could be… "Let me guess, you're Patterson's state appointed babysitter." No point in dancing around what he knows; apparently the guy's not here to bust him or he wouldn't have told the ME to keep silent.

The man's blue eyes widen slightly before he recovers with a humorless chuckle. "I've been called many things, Mr. Teller, but 'babysitter' has never been on the list. Name's Nick Reese." He extends a hand, which Jax shakes warily. "I'm the AG's Chief Deputy. You can say, I'm here to offer my assistance."

So another fucking politician seeking the spotlight at Tara's expense; Jax's blood boils as he tamps down the urge to grab his knife and shove it into the bastard's goddamn face.

"So much rage." Reese's stares at him intently, a cold smile spreading across his face. "That's good. Very good."

The tiny thread holding on to Jax's patience snaps. "Listen, I don't know what your fucking game is with the DA; I don't give a shit. All I want is to find out what happened to my wife. And you've got about ten seconds to tell me before…"

"Eli Roosevelt wasn't the primary target. He was shot in the back, a quick and relatively painless end - compared to what happened to…Dr. Knowles." There's something in the man's tone that sets off Jax's warning senses, but before he can identify it, Reese drops the bomb that obliterates the fragile grip Jax's had on his control. "Dr. Knowles' killer had tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - _six_ times. And with enough force to crack her skull."

Jax's seen more than his share of brutal, grisly death - a lot of it done by his own hand. But for a few exceptions, like the bloody ends he'd meted out to the bastards who killed Opie and the psycho ATF agent who terrorized Tara, he'd be lying if he claimed those deaths didn't haunt him - only Tara had always known_. "I know the turmoil you live with, Jax. I feel the pain you wake up with every day." _ But this… Holy Fucking Christ…there's no fucking living with this. His knees buckle, forcing him to grab the lab table to keep from falling to the ground. Cradling his head in his hands, he's suddenly swamped with images of her…

…saving his eight-year-old ass from a bully with a water-gun filled with salt water  
…beaming up at him when he told her he loved her for first time  
…smiling softly as she pressed his hands against her pregnant belly so they could feel their baby move inside her  
…glowing with love as he finally slid a wedding ring on to her finger

And then, there's nothing but blood - Tara's blood - all over the kitchen, all over his hands and clothes when he'd held her…  
Completely losing his shit, he swings his arms widely across the lab table - sending all the contents shattering and spilling on to the floor. Picking up a stool, he hurls it across the room to smash a glass cabinet, triggering an alarm. It's the loud, shrill sound that penetrates the rage-fueled fog in Jax's brain, stopping him in his tracks. Clutching the lab table, he closes his eyes and tries to control his ragged breathing.

"You'd better get out of here, before those hayseed deputies remember how to do their jobs." Suddenly remembering that he's not alone, Jax looks around wildly until he meets the icy blue gaze of the man who'd thoroughly and excruciatingly destroyed any hope he'd had of keeping his pain and rage and hate in check. There's no fucking way, no goddamn fucking way he can walk away from Charming until he finds and butchers Tara's murderer. As if approving the turn of Jax's murderous thoughts, Reese smiles slowly before looking out into the hallway and signaling to him that all was clear. "Go now. I'll be in touch. We have some work to do."

* * *

"_But I want to go with you, Mommy." Blue eyes filling with tears but no less defiant, Abel ignores Bobby's promise of both ice cream and cookies, refusing to unclasp his arms from around Tara's leg. "Please."_

_Jax watches as Tara, holding Thomas, crouches down on one knee to be eye level with their oldest son. Despite the grimness of his situation - he's about to meet with the DA about a deal that'll send him to prison for years - a slight smile tugs at his lips as Abel throw his arms around his mother and little brother, burying his face into her shoulder. Pretty much since birth, Abel's harbored a strong attachment to the beautiful doctor who'd eventually become his mother. Jax's often wondered if it was a bond that forged when Tara, the gifted surgeon, had literally saved the baby's life. Then sometimes, in his rare fanciful moods, he wonders if his own bone-deep love for her had passed on to his son - actually both of his sons, as Thomas also seems to share his father and brother's fascination for the same woman._

"_It won't be long, baby, I promise." Tara soothes him, running her fingers through his blond hair as Abel lifts his head from her shoulder. "Mommy and Daddy need to meet with someone for just a little bit. Then Daddy'll come by to play with you and Thomas. I'll pick you up later and…" She flashes Abel an impish smile that sets Jax's heart pounding. "We can have breakfast for dinner!"_

_The little boy's tears vanish, replaced by an excited smile. "Pancakes?" he asks hopefully, his small hand still clutching her arm._

"_Double pancakes." She ups the ante, much to Abel's delight. "Now do you remember what we talked about this morning? We're not going on our trip anymore, but I still need you to do me that favor." _

_Jax can't help but smile again as Abel nods solemnly and peers into Thomas' face, finger-combing the baby's hair just like he's probably seen Tara do to all three Teller men. "I'm the big brother."_

"_That's right, baby. And I'm the luckiest Mommy in the universe." Tara squeezes both boys tight. "I love you both, so much. So much."_

Sitting in the St. Thomas parking lot, Jax wonders once again how in hell he'll be able to face his sons, knowing that it was his fault that their mother was dead. It'd been painful enough to suspect that she'd been killed because of some connection to SAMCRO, but now knowing for certain was eating him alive. Especially knowing how she'd died…

After destroying the ME's lab, he'd raced out of the Sheriff's building - only to puke his guts out the second he got outside. Then he'd jumped on his bike, gunning up to max speeds - daring either the cops to arrest him or the road to take him, he really didn't give a shit. It wasn't until later, after answering a call from Rosen, when he'd finally pulled his head out of his ass. Listening to the lawyer tell him about tomorrow's meet with Lowen to discuss Tara's will forced him think of his boys and the promise he'd made to raise them away from Charming. He can't fulfill that promise if he's lying bloody and dead on the road.

Entering the hospital, he heads for the daycare, trying desperately not to think about all the happier times he'd walked these halls eager to spend time with Tara. So intent at trying to block out memories, he doesn't notice Margaret Murphy until she grabs his arm and pulls him around to face her.

"Sorry, but I really need to talk to you before you pick up the boys." She releases his arm and steps back. "I'm not sure what Gemma's been able to tell you, but…"

Frowning, he glances over at the entrance to the daycare; dread and panic filling him at the thought that one or both of his sons could be hurt. "What is it? Is something wrong with Abel or Thomas?" He stares hard at Tara's former boss, trying to interpret the concern on her face.

Hesitating for a moment, Margaret guides him to sit down in one of the chairs next to the daycare entrance. "Their mother's death hit both boys very hard. Thomas is too young to understand what happened, but he doesn't miss her any less. The daycare manager told me that he cries all the time, won't go down for naps and sometimes refuses to eat."

"Jesus…" Jax breathes harshly, burying his face in his hands.

"And then there's Abel…" Alarmed by the tone in her voice, he glances up, heart sinking at the troubled look on her face. "Jax, he's stopped talking. Gemma told me that he's not said a word since she told him about Tara. She's worried, Jax. We all are."

Jax runs a hand across his face; it crushes him to know about his sons' pain, although he can't say he's surprised given his own anguish - they'd all lost the person they loved the most; there's no fucking way to recover from that quickly, if at all. "Thanks for letting me know," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to take them home now. And if you're okay with it, I'll bring them back tomorrow."

"Of course," she replies quickly. "I told you that they're always be welcome here."

* * *

"So I was thinking, maybe we could have pancakes for dinner. Sound good?" Jax glances into the rearview mirror at Abel, trying anything to get a reaction from his young son. He may as well have been fucking talking to himself as Abel remains silent, his gaze focused out the window.

Despite Margaret's head's up about his sons' troubles, going into the daycare had been a jarring experience. Ever since he'd learned to walk, Abel had always run to greet him, leaping into his arms with happy cries of "Daddy!" Not this time. His son barely acknowledged him, didn't even move when Jax crouched down to hug him. And Thomas, Jesus Christ…Jax's always loved that his baby boy inherited Tara's gorgeous mossy green eyes. But staring into those same eyes had nearly driven Jax to his knees.

Giving up at trying to engage Abel, he drives them home in silence; his mind completely focused on _not _dwelling on the crushing revelation around Tara's death. He can't bear to think about what she might've suffered in her final minutes, especially not with the boys in the car; he can't lose control in front of them. Instead he fixes his thoughts on Chief Deputy AG, Nick Reese. What the fuck was the guy's angle? Going behind the DA's back to feed Jax the truth about Tara and Roosevelt's deaths, was he baiting some kind of trap where he needed to see Jax's grief and rage up close? In his call with Rosen this afternoon, he didn't mention the run-in with Reese, but tomorrow, he'll grill both Rosen and Lowen on what they know about the AG's slick golden boy.

Turning on his street, he spots his mother's car in the driveway and groans silently. He truly appreciates everything she's done for him and his boys, but he doesn't have the fucking energy to deal with any of her shit right now. Also, after putting the boys to bed, he needs to start thinking more about the plan to leave Charming and The Sons - and how his burning need to exact retaliation for Tara will fit into those plans. He knows it'll kill Gemma to be left behind, but he owes it to Tara to honor what she wanted - for the boys to grow up far away from SAMCRO and far away from Gemma because, in Tara's mind, one fueled the other.

After pulling Thomas out of the back seat, he goes to the other side to release Abel from his car seat; he'd barely finished unbuckling all the straps when his son springs out of the seat and out of the car. "Abel!" Jax shouts, not sure where the little boy might run; his shoulders slump in relief when Abel darts up the front steps and starts pounding on the door.

Carrying Thomas, Jax reaches the front stoop just as his mother opens the door. "What the hell…" Gemma sputters as Abel pushes past her and takes off down the hall towards his room. Except he doesn't go to his room. Eyes stinging, Jax swallows hard as Abel pushes open the door to his parents' bedroom and rushes inside, "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Oh, Jesus." Gemma whispers hoarsely. "I told you that you can't let them stay here…We have to take them back to my place now."

Handing Thomas to her, he shakes his head. "Leave it alone, Mom. We're staying here." Taking off after Abel, he pauses in his bedroom doorway, heart pounding as he watches his son standing by the bed, desperately scanning every inch of the room for where Tara could possibly be hiding.

Running his hands through his hair, Jax walks into the room and crouches next to his distraught son, rubbing the little boy's shaking shoulder. "Hey," he whispers gently. "Look, buddy. Mommy's not here. Grandma told you she went to heaven and…" But Abel doesn't let him finish, bolting to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Sighing heavily, Jax trudges out into the hallway towards Gemma, who's still standing in the same spot by the front door, as if frozen in place. "What're we going to do, Jackson?" She swipes the tears in her eyes as Jax takes Thomas from her.

"Do?" He hisses as the all-too-familiar rage burns through him again. "I'm going to find the monster who took her from them…" He glances at Abel's closed door while squeezing Thomas tight against him. "…and from me. And when I do…he'll feel Tara's pain, all of our pain. Believe me, Mom, compared to that, hell will be paradise."


	4. Every Day Is a New Box

**AN: This chapter includes a flashback inspired by a deleted scene from "Brick" (4x5). It's one of my favorites (thus the reason for my photo avatar); never understood why KS cut it out of the episode.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: EVERY DAY IS A NEW BOX**

_Lieutenant Althea Jarry shakes her head as she stares at the mountain of files stacked in front of two deputies, who've done nothing but read reports from the pile for the past few hours. Nick Reese had ordered them to scour Roosevelt's jacket, a body of work that included over 15 years in Oakland before he got promoted to San Joaquin County Sheriff. Frankly, it's a fucking waste of time; she knows that Tara Knowles had to be the primary victim given the savagery of her murder compared to Eli's. It doesn't make sense that someone who had a grudge against Eli to kill him quickly but then torture-kill the innocent woman with him. _

_But both Reese and his boss, the Attorney General, define the term "political animal"; no doubt they see something here that's fueling their ambitions for state law and for their careers. She doesn't know Reese well, but she's heard enough about him - good and bad - to know that the man doesn't do a damn thing without a larger purpose. The violent murder of a decorated cop - not to mention a doctor and mother of two small boys - well that could have death penalty judicial review all over it. _

_Closing her eyes, she tries to erase the images of the bloody crime scene from her mind as anger and regret pierce her once again. Eli was one of the best - a good guy and a great cop; he didn't fucking deserve this, especially after all he'd been through with losing Rita and their unborn baby. As for Dr. Knowles, holy hell…no one deserved that._

"_Hey boss, check this out…" One of the deputies hands her a file folder. "This report wasn't found with the others…I remember a while ago Roosevelt had something on this guy, but I don't know more than that 'cause he kept us out of the loop. Looks like he was working with the feds."_

_Jarry thanks him and takes the file, dubiously eyeing the single sheet of paper until she spots the infamous acronym "SAMCRO" and a single name scrawled at the top of the page: "Juan Carlos Ortiz." _

* * *

"I said it before, and I'll say it again - you look like shit. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jax runs a shaky hand through his wet hair; the shower he'd finally taken hasn't done shit to make him feel better. His head's pounding like a son-of-a-bitch while his stomach churns violently, like he could fucking heave at any second - puking up the bottle of Wild Turkey 101 that he drank for dinner last night. And when he'd looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw the ravaged face of a man who's aged a hundred years in the past few days. So no, he's not fucking okay - he's just not admitting shit to Bobby. "I'm fine," he mutters.

Bobby eyes him doubtfully but doesn't argue, probably knowing it'd get him nowhere. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know shit about what you're going through right now…Just remember that we're here for you, Brother - anything you need, you just have to ask."

Nodding, Jax forces a strained smile. "I know," he replies softly. No doubt Bobby and the others have felt his distance - that they've noticed he hasn't set foot in the ice cream shop nor returned any of their calls since getting out of the hospital. And last night he was supposed to call Chibs to check in; however, reeling from the devastating discoveries about Tara and his sons, all he'd managed to do was feed his boys and put them to bed before shuttering himself in his bedroom to find escape in a bottle of 100 proof bourbon.

So he'd not been surprised this morning to find Bobby at his front door with a bag of freshly made muffins in hand. Usually it amused Jax when his bad-ass Brother would go into domestic baking mode, but now since he's got no fucking sense of humor and no fucking appetite, a weak murmur of thanks was all he could muster when he let Bobby inside.

The older man must've had plans to spend some time playing fun Uncle Bobby with Abel and Thomas because he'd been visibly disappointed when Jax said he'd already taken the boys to daycare. Jax doesn't tell him that he would've been more disappointed when the little boys ignored his overtures, like they did with their own father. Abel continued to remain silent, picking listlessly at his food, while Thomas had cried himself to sleep last night and then again almost non-stop this morning. As much as he loves his sons - they're all he has left now - he'd been almost relieved to turn them over to the daycare manager; it's fucking unbearable to see his own pain mirrored in their faces.

"So we're having Church in an hour," Bobby announces, wolfing down a muffin. "Would be really good to have you back at the head of the table, Brother. Where you belong." It hadn't escaped Jax's notice that, in addition to the bag of muffins, Bobby also brought the leather cut that Jax'd left on the ground at St. Thomas - the President's patch still intact.

Ignoring the cut and the muffin that Bobby pushes in his direction, Jax shakes his head. "Can't. Got to head over to Rosen's office now to meet with him and Lowen. She's got Tara's will." He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what that might entail. Jesus, it's fucking hard enough to get through each day knowing that Tara's gone, but these constant reminders of what he'd lost was slowly killing him.

Then like yesterday in the DA's parking lot, Bobby's eyes fill with grief, once again proving to Jax that he and his sons aren't the only ones suffering the pain of Tara's death. Feeling Bobby's hand clamping his shoulder, Jax meets his friend's intent stare. "Have you thought about what you want to do…with Tara? You know, it's okay if you don't think you can handle making the arrangements. It's fucking hard when it's someone that close. If you need us, we can do that for you."

"Thanks, man." Jax grips the hand Bobby placed on his shoulder. "Rosen said Lowen needed to talk to me about Tara's will before the coroner releases…Tara… tomorrow. Maybe she'd already made arrangements." Although Jax hates the idea that Tara might've anticipated her own death, it wouldn't have surprised him given the letter she'd written him right before she died. _"…once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again."_

Bobby nods somberly as they walk out the door to the bikes parked in the driveway. "Ok. Just let us know what we can do, Brother. Anything…"

"I will," Jax promises, straddling his bike. He's about to fasten his helmet when Bobby grabs his arm, forcing him to meet his old friend's concerned brown eyes.

"There's one more thing…Look, I know I'm about the last person who should be lecturing anyone about hitting the bottle when they shouldn't be. Tara gave me hell for drinking and smoking after she took those slugs out of my shoulder." Bobby smiles sadly. "Don't think I've forgotten how fucking bad you got after she left for college. And this…well I can't imagine anything could feel worse for you than this. But you got those boys to think about…" He waves aside Jax's attempt to defend himself. "A long time ago, I knew a guy who lost his wife and tried to find relief from the pain at the bottom of a bottle. Problem was that he never stopped, and no one suffered more for it than his little girl." Bobby shoots him a meaningful look before he starts his bike then takes off down the street.

Stunned, Jax sinks down on his bike, staring sightlessly down the street as Bobby disappears around the corner. Last night he knew it was completely fucked-up to get obliterated with his sons asleep down the hall, but just like the night before, the intense pain had clawed at him until only the bottle could bring relief. The pounding in his head grows louder as he flashes back to memories of Frank Knowles stumbling around town in a drunken stupor, screaming abusive obscenities at his only child, passing out in public places - of the ugly, painful looking bruises on Tara's arms and face…Holy shit.

Rubbing his blood-shot eyes, Jax silently vows to toss the booze that's left in the house. There's no way, no fucking way he'll let himself turn into that goddamn bastard. He won't do that to his boys, won't do that to Tara. Feeling his phone vibrate, he pulls it out of his pocket; glancing at Rosen's name flashing across the screen, he hits the answer button and tells the lawyer that he's on his way.

* * *

Jax's known Ally Lowen for years, and although she'd always been tighter with Tara, they'd always gotten along. That is until that day from hell when he'd threatened her until she confirmed Tara's secret plan to divorce him and hand custody of their boys to Wendy. Apparently, he'd terrified her enough to leave town, forcing Tara to hire another lawyer to fight the criminal charges against her for Pamela Toric's murder. But now Lowen's back temporarily, apparently determined to set aside her fear of him to ensure that he honor Tara's last wishes.

Sitting down at the table in Rosen's personal conference room, he nods at her in greeting - only to receive a cold glare in return. No doubt, Rosen's former partner believes him guilty of Tara's murder; either by killing her himself or causing it to happen by constantly putting her in harm's way. Like Margaret Murphy, Lowen may despise him and wish him dead instead of Tara, but neither woman could possibly hate him more than he hates himself.

In stark contrast to Lowen's open animosity, Rosen eyes him with worried concern. "Jesus, Jax you look like hell. Maybe you need to go back to the hospital, have the doctor take a look at you. We can always do this at another time…"

"No." Jax shuts him down firmly; he's fucking sick of people harping on his health. Although he may look and feel like complete shit, he's not the goddamn fragile piece of glass that his mom, his Brothers and his lawyer seem to see when they look at him. He's got a lot to do in the next few days, and there's no fucking way he'll let anyone derail him. "Let's get this done."

Rosen stares at him for a long moment - as if debating whether to concede or argue - then nods at Lowen, signaling for her to begin. She shoots Jax one more baleful glare before opening the manila folder in front of her and pulling out a thick stack of paper. When she looks back up at him, he's surprised at the quick shift from open hostility to impassive professionalism.

But Lowen's unexpected change in demeanor was fucking nothing compared to the series of staggering revelations that wound up knocking Jax on his ass. Although Tara's will was originally dated not long after her stay in Stockton, she'd set the wheels in motion years before.

He'd been floored by the discovery that she'd started a trust account for Abel right after Jax'd brought him home from Ireland, even before Wendy transferred custodial rights. Suddenly he's swamped by images of Tara visiting him in Stockton: pale and exhausted from dealing with pregnancy and parenting a toddler by herself, working too many goddamn double shifts in order to make ends meet - and apparently to secure their son's future…make that sons' futures as she'd started an identical trust for Thomas just a few days after his birth.

"Tara didn't have a lot to start with given that she wasn't making much as a resident when she opened Abel's trust and had just earned her surgical board certificate when Thomas was born. However, she steadily added what she could to both accounts, although now…" Lowen's voice breaks while Jax closes his eyes as it hits them both that Tara won't be making any more regular contributions. "…now the boys' share of her life insurance policy will go into those accounts. So even if there are no further deposits, the compounded interest alone should result in significant annual growth. By the time each boy is eighteen and able to access his trust account, the annual distributions should be quite considerable."

When Jax got out of Stockton and proposed to Tara, he'd told her that he couldn't live off his wife - had insisted on supporting them with his earnings from The Club. He never asked what she wound up doing with her doctor's salary; now he knows.

Meeting Lowen's steady gaze, he's surprised by the soft empathy in her eyes - as if she'd read enough in his expression to realize how much he was dying inside. "Jax, you know she wanted Abel and Thomas to have choices - that SAMCRO didn't have to be their future. And if they do decide on a different path and go to college, she didn't want them to struggle with money like she did." Given that, it doesn't surprise him to learn that Tara had named both Lowen and Margaret Murphy as the trustees for the boys' trust accounts.

Weeks ago he might've been furious that Tara had done all of this behind his back, that she'd empowered non-family members to have any say regarding his sons' futures. Now he's filled with stunned, grief-tinged gratitude; cruel fate had robbed his baby boys of the exceptional woman who'd been their mother, yet in the brutally short time they'd had together, Tara managed to set their sons on a path to a more promising future.

Lowen gives him more information regarding the boys' trust accounts and his responsibilities as the surviving parent. It reminds him of the guardianship papers he'd signed, naming Wendy as the boys' guardian if anything happened to him or Tara. His nose wrinkles in disgust at the idea of it, especially since Gemma told him that the fucking junkie piece of shit was back in rehab. Surely, Tara would agree with the decision to tear up those papers and find someone else more worthy of their boys (which could be anyone else - Wendy was dog shit in his eyes).

As if reading his mind, Lowen pulls out another set of documents from her pile. It's the guardianship papers he'd signed with the word "VOID" stamped in red ink on each page. "Tara called me not long after you signed these. Said Wendy wasn't to be trusted with the boys and that she had another option. But we never got the chance to make the revision…"

Jax nods and swallows hard. "I'm pretty sure I know who she has in mind. But I'd like to talk to her before we put anything in writing. That okay with you?"

"It's okay unless you're talking about your mother. You know Tara wouldn't…"

"Believe me, it's not," Jax assures her. "Gemma loves her grandsons, but I know Tara didn't want them growing up with her. I can honor that."

"Then it's okay with me," Lowen replies. Then pulling the last sheet of paper out of her file, she takes a long look at the document before turning back to Jax. "Did you and Tara ever talk about final arrangements for one another?"

Despite the violence that had surrounded his life since he earned his Prospect patch, he'd never given any thought to his own death or what would happen to him after he met the Reaper. Probably because he risked death so many times, he never wanted to think about it; he certainly never wanted to think of Tara dying. Jax shakes his head, although during last night's bourbon-fest, it'd hit him what he should do.

Exhaling loudly, Lowen hands him the final document. "During her medical internship in Chicago, Tara signed these papers donating her remains to the medical school for…"

"That's not fucking going to happen!" Jax savagely rips the document into shreds then throws the pile of torn paper at Lowen. "No way, no goddamn way anyone's going to dissect her or…" Fuck, he's so furious at the idea he can barely speak.

"Jax, it's what she wanted," Lowen reminds him. "Tara was a doctor; she…"

"I said NO! Fuck NO!" He slams his hand loudly on the table, causing Lowen to jump in her seat as fear spreads across her face. Jax leaps to his feet and stalks away from the table, trying to control his anger. Of course Dr. Knowles the surgeon would have a clinical, practical view of how her remains could further scientific study. But Jax's never liked anyone touching his girl while she was alive, that's not fucking changing now.

In the corner of his eye, he watches Rosen toss the shredded paper into the trashcan as the lawyer attempts to reinstate peace between his agitated client and petrified ex-partner. "Look, it's been years since Tara signed that consent form. And the medical school is in Chicago. Given the time elapsed as well as the distance, I doubt the school will enforce the claim - especially since her husband's clearly reluctant to honor the agreement. That said…" Rosen looks at Jax pointedly. "You'd better do what you plan to do before the news about Tara spreads to them."

* * *

"Thanks for staying." Rosen returns to the conference room after walking Lowen out to the lobby. "I won't keep you long; there's a couple more things I wanted to go over with you without Ally here…like what I learned about the AG's involvement in Tara's case."

Shit, he'd got so caught up in the surprises from Tara's will and his rage over the fucked-up plan to donate her body, he'd forgotten to ask the lawyers about the mysterious Nick Reese. But now that Rosen's brought it up, Jax thinks maybe it's better not to reveal that he'd met the Chief Deputy AG while threatening the county medical examiner. He decides to keep silent with what he knows for now - at least until he meets the cryptic state's attorney again and finds out what the hell game he's playing.

Shaking his head, Rosen plops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "Cane said he heard that the AG sent in someone with enough juice to reign in Patterson; he wasn't kidding. Shit, Teller, you've hit the big time with this one. Have you ever heard of a man named Nicholas Reese? He's the reigning golden boy in the AG's office and heir apparent to the top job when his boss wins the Governor's race in the next election. Hell, in a few years, Reese will probably be Governor."

Feigning nonchalance, Jax shakes his head and shrugs his stiffening shoulders. "Nah. State politics isn't exactly high on my list of hobbies."

"Well then you might want to broaden your interests." Rosen runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I've known Nick for a few years. He's a complete and total prick - and unfortunately, one of the smartest guys I've ever met. The AG must really see something big in this case to send him here."

"_I'll be in touch. We have some work to do."_ Whatever that "something big" is, it's clear Reese needs Jax's help to get it done. Otherwise, why else would he disclose the carefully guarded truth about the brutality of Tara's murder to incite Jax's fury? "_So much rage…That's good. Very good."_

"It's got to be about the death penalty." Rosen muses aloud. "California politics might not be your thing…but the current regime - from the Governor on down want capital punishment back in play. And for the AG and Reese, well it's been quite the crusade…"

Anger swamps Jax once again; if that fucking son-of-a-bitch plans to use Tara's murder - exploit the pain of her loss - to further his political ambitions, Jax will make sure the man understands first-hand what that agony feels like.

"If memory serves, the AG's brother was a cop in Oakland when he died on the job a few years ago; she's been on a mission to crush cop killers ever since. If there's a connection with her brother and Roosevelt, then this prosecution could be a personal vendetta as well. I'll keep digging." Rosen shoots him a wary look, no doubt sensing Jax's swelling anger. "In the meantime, stay out of trouble. You don't want to fuck with Reese, Jax. He's not like one of the bumbling law enforcement types you've dealt with around here. Patterson's looking for a way to lock you up temporarily on parole violation; if Nick thinks you're a threat to his case, he'll go after SAMCRO - and believe me, if that happens…all of you guys will be spending your golden years in Stockton or worse."

* * *

Pulling into the bank parking lot, Jax cuts the Dyna's engine then reaches into his pocket. Before he left Rosen's office, the lawyer handed him a small envelope, telling him "Tara wanted you to have this." Inside, Jax'd found a safety deposit box key that he'd recognized right away. Puzzled, he'd tried to question Rosen, but the man refused to answer - telling Jax to call him after he'd retrieved all the contents in the box. Now staring at the familiar key in his hand, Jax can't help but flash back to the first time he'd seen it.

_Shit it was late; the house's dark and silent when he walks inside, no doubt both Tara and the boys went to sleep a while ago. He'd wanted to come home earlier, especially since he just got back from their two-day run to Tucson, but there'd been too much shit to do - including nailing Georgie Caruso for Luanne's murder. Fuck, he'd wanted to end that piece of shit; they owed it to Otto - who'd loved Luanne more than anything - and because any sick fuck who killed a Member's Old Lady deserved to die bloody. But Clay chose to keep Caruso alive in an attempt to screw Hale's plans for the Charming Heights development. Jax didn't love the idea, but he'd gone along - somewhat pacified by the promise of offing Caruso later - but really more eager to finish this shit so he could go home to his family._

_Tara must've fallen asleep waiting for him because her bedside lamp's still on - enabling him to spot the small key lying on her night table; the sight of it triggers a wave of relief to surge through him. This morning when he'd given her two huge bricks of cash - a "souvenir" from the motorcycle show - he'd felt a tinge of unease at how she'd stared at the money in wary confusion. He knows living on the shady side of the law bothers her, that she'd sucked it up so far because she wants to be with him - the luckiest SOB on the planet. But he also knows that she has limits (which is why he won't tell her about the drugs and the cartel, she'd leave him for sure), and now he's got her involved in money-laundering…_

_A smile tugs at his lips as his gaze drifts from the key to his sleeping Old Lady. Stripping down to his boxers, he climbs into bed; a tiny voice in his head tells him he should let her sleep, but it's quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming need to spend the rest of the night fucking the love of his life. He'd been away from her for far too long._

"_Hey," she greets him sleepily, squeezing his hand as he wraps himself around her, kissing and nibbling the sensitive, baby soft skin on her neck. She shivers and moans his name as he cups a lush breast, swirling his thumb against her hardening nipple over and over. Tilting her face, she brushes her lips against his before blowing his mind with a scorching hot kiss._

_Completely engrossed in sensation - from her hot mouth, her luscious body, her soft hands stroking and squeezing him all over - he finds himself naked and flat on his back, looking up at her gorgeous face. Running her hands across his bare chest, she smiles down at him. "Did you miss me, Baby?" Before he can gather enough brain cells to answer, she beams him that saucy smile - sending excitement coursing through every inch of his body. It's an old game that they've been playing since high school; he fucking, fucking loves what's coming next…_

"_Did you miss me touching you like this?" She grips his cock, sliding her hands up and down his rock-hard dick, stroking the wet tip with her thumb while her other hand fondles his balls. He grits his teeth and responds with a series of loud moans and curses._

"_Did you miss being inside of me?" Oh fucking shit…he clenches the bed sheet while she slowly, slowly impales herself on his all-too-eager cock. He growls with pleasure when she starts to ride, her soaking hot inner-muscles squeezing him tightly._

"_Did you miss these puppies?" Watching intently through desire-glazed eyes, he inhales sharply as she cups her bare breasts - pressing them together and brushing her fingers across her stiff nipples. Her lips curve into a naughty smile right before she short-circuits his brain. Dipping her fingers between her legs, she moans softly then paints each nipple with her wetness. "Suck me," she whispers right as he loses all control, launching up so that he can suckle her hungrily - reveling in the taste of her while licking and kissing and nibbling those thick, rosy buds._

_Clasping her ass, he lifts her slightly then slams her down on his cock - again and again and again until orgasmic pleasure blasts through them both. Breathing heavily, he buries his face against her heaving breasts then smiles as he feels her lips brush against his ear. "I missed you too, Baby." _

Christ, he buries his sweaty face in his hands; all these memories of her keep flooding his mind...he's not sure whether to cling to them like a lifeline or fight them off before he goes completely insane. Swallowing hard, Jax clenches the key in his sweaty palm as he walks slowly towards the bank. He can't imagine what she'd left in the box for him; they'd stopped storing cash there after cutting ties with Galindo - hell, he didn't even know that she'd kept the account. But evidently today's the day for shit to knock him on his ass.

His cel phone rings as he's about to walk in the door. Frowning at the unknown number showing on the screen, he decides to answer anyway. Whether that's a fucking mistake remains to be seen.

"Teller, it's Nick Reese. We need to talk."


	5. Slamming Up Against What I Should Do

**Chapter 4: SLAMMING UP AGAINST WHAT I SHOULD DO**

"_That's him, the skinny Hispanic guy…." The deputy nods in the direction of their quarry, who's standing next to his Harley talking on his cel phone. "Juan Carlos Ortiz."_

_Sitting in the Sheriff's squad car parked a discreet distance from the ice cream shop - SAMCRO's de facto Clubhouse - Jarry assesses the biker called Juice. The man certainly has a history with the Sanwa Sheriff's Department (and Charming PD) - bouncing in and out of jail for years. However, the separate file on him that they'd found in Eli's office fell frustratingly short on detail - an unusual lapse by the diligent man that she'd known for years; which makes her wonder about the truth hidden between the lines and whether it'd been explosive enough to drive Juice to such violent retaliation. But even so, why kill Tara Knowles so savagely? Did Juice harbor that much hate for his MC President's wife? Or for the Biker King himself? Based on what she'd been told about Jackson Teller's long history with Tara Knowles and what she'd observed of his interview with Patterson, if anyone had wanted to destroy the man, killing his wife was the way to do it._

_However, despite her immediate interest in Juice, she could also ask those same questions about all the potential persons of interests they'd identified when going through Eli's jacket. Her old friend had a shitload of bad guys who would've loved to take him down - now she needs to find out which ones also harbored that same murderous animosity for the SAMCRO President._

_She'd relayed her findings to both Reese and Patterson; both had agreed with her strategy to find a link between the two victims. However, she didn't tell them about Juice; that link was too tenuous given the scant information in the report, also she didn't want to smear Eli by suggesting that he might've done shit off the record or sanitized a case file. _

_Nor did she tell them about her own suspicion that Eli had fallen victim to walking into the wrong place at the wrong time - that Eli's killer had shot him in the back because he'd either witnessed Dr. Knowles' murder or discovered her dead body. However, she needs the crime scene report to prove her theory - even a preliminary version would do - but for some crazy reason, the county CSU hasn't finished their analysis. It's pissing her off because she's seen them process and analyze crime scenes three times the size of the Teller's kitchen in half the time they're taking now. But then, the AG's office wasn't involved in those cases; everyone's fucking tip-toeing on egg shells because of Nick Reese._

_She's jolted out of her thoughts by the appearance of a tall woman walking up to Juice, who immediately ends his call. As the woman leans in to hug the young biker, Jarry recognizes her from the photo in Jackson Teller's thick file: Gemma Teller-Morrow. _

* * *

Head and heart pounding, Jax watches the bank employee insert her key, then his to open the safe deposit slot and extract the box. He follows her to the adjoining room where she sets the box on the table then tells him to let her know when he's ready to leave. For a few seconds, his thoughts drift to the terse conversation with Nick Reese prior to walking into the bank; he wonders who and what's going to fuck with his mind more - the cagey Deputy Chief AG, who wants to meet with him later today, or the mysterious shit in the safety deposit box that Tara had wanted him to have.

It'd been a shock to find out that Tara'd kept the box after Galindo cut ties with SAMCRO; after cleaning the cartel's last cash payment, they'd moved the funds into their regular bank account - with their legitimate money. But along with the key, Rosen handed over a bank document transferring ownership of the box to him. He'd been fucking confused why Rosen had delivered the news instead of Lowen, the lawyer in charge of Tara's will. But when Jax pelted him with questions, Rosen went into asshole mode and refused to answer anything until Jax retrieved the contents of the box and brought it back to the office - tomorrow because he's got court in Sacramento the rest of the day. Jax'd been tempted to slug the prick, growling that he's in no fucking mood to play a goddamn scavenger hunt game - instead, burning curiosity had him speeding towards the bank right after the meeting.

Taking a deep breath, Jax opens the box only to have his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He lifts a manila envelope and stares in shock at the stacks of hundred dollar bills lining the bottom layer of the box. Holy fuck. Where the hell did Tara get this cash? Based on the will that Lowen read him, all of Tara's savings had gone into the boys' trust accounts and the remaining proceeds she had from selling her dad's house had gone to pay her legal fees. For long moments, he stares at the cash like a dumbfuck before finally remembering the envelope in his hand; hopefully it can shed some light as to why there's seventy grand in cash in a box that should've been empty.

However the contents of the envelope deliver an even greater shock. Quickly scanning the papers - most of which look to be stock and brokerage documents (shit he's never cared to understand) - he's floored by savings account statements from a physicians' credit union. Apparently Tara had started the account right after he proposed to her and promised to take them all out of Charming; she'd been saving for their life together.

"_You talk to my mom about what to do with the cash?" He pulls her tighter against him, every inch of his body still buzzing from the insanely delicious way she'd welcomed him home. Holy fuck, no one else can rock his world with the blinding ecstasy that she does. No one._

_She nuzzles his neck then smiles up at him. "Yeah, I had lunch with her; we're going to meet with a guy Bobby knows. It's just a lot of money, Jax…" _

_Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he twines their fingers. "And I promise there's going to be a whole lot more… I remember what it was like for you growing up, Tara; your parents never gave you shit. You even left to find a better life. I'm just so damn lucky you came back to me." He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her fingers. "I want to give you a beautiful life, Babe - you and the boys and all the other kids we're going to have. I want to be able to give you everything."_

"_Oh Jax…" Green eyes misty, she kisses him softly. "I don't need you to buy me things. Once you're out of SAMCRO and we're gone from here, we could live in a tent and it'd be beautiful." Sliding on top of him, she leans down and blows him away with scorching hot kiss. "I love you, Baby." Tara strokes his face with her soft hands. "All I need is for you and the boys to be safe. That's all I'll ever want…for us to be together."_

Suddenly, the pounding in his head ratchets to another level; if he doesn't get the fuck out of here he's going puke or violently destroy shit like in the ME's lab - or both. He shoves the papers back into the envelope, which he rolls up and sticks in his sweatshirt pocket; Rosen's got a fuckload of explaining to do. Eyeing the cash, he decides to leave it all in the box for now - although he'll be back for it…soon.

* * *

"Hey, Mano, thanks for calling me back." Nero sits down next to him on the park bench. Despite the tight bond that's grown between them, their last two meetings hadn't gone well. On the worst day of Jax's life, Nero had called him out for lying about his complicity in Darvany's murder. And when Nero had come to visit him at the hospital, Jax had raged at him to get out - like he did to every poor fucker who'd walked into his room; if he couldn't see Tara, he didn't want to see anyone.

However, Nero continued to reach out; calling and leaving multiple voicemails on Jax's cel - which Jax had ignored, like all the other messages, until today. Since he had a few hours to kill before the meet with Reese, Jax finally returned his friend's call; he needs a favor from the one guy he can trust with his plan. "Thanks for coming," Jax tells him quietly. "Sorry I was such an asshole the other day, I…"

Nero clamps his hand on Jax's shoulder and shakes his head. "No, man, it's okay. I get it."

Jax nods then turns to stare out at the empty playground where he'd spent hundreds of hours as a kid with Opie and Tara, then as family man with Tara and his boys. He's not sure why he chose this place to meet Nero; in his agitated state, he hadn't wanted to go home where the bottles of whiskey could tempt him again and he sure as hell didn't want to go to his mom's or to the ice cream shop. Maybe subconsciously he'd picked this place because he'd known only happiness with her here.

"The coroner's releasing Tara tomorrow." It surprises him a little that he can sound so bland and matter-of-fact. "I need a favor with the…final arrangements."

His friend blinks in surprise; whatever Nero may have expected him to say, it wasn't this. No doubt he probably expected Jax to go to Gemma or one of his SAMCRO Brothers for anything to do with Tara's burial. "Anything, Jax. Just tell me what you need from me; it's as good as done."

Nero may've looked slightly surprised before, but after Jax divulges his plan, the man's jaw drops in stunned amazement. "Are you going to tell Gemma about this?"

Jax shakes his head. "No, she'll try to stop me. No one else can know until I'm ready for them to know. I have to do this, Nero. It's what Tara would've wanted; I can't let her down again…"

"Okay." Nero nods slowly, a small smile tugging his lips. "Okay." He sits with Jax in silence for a few long moments before getting up, patting Jax on the shoulder then walking away; leaving Jax to continue staring at the empty playground.

"_Jax? What are you doing here?" Tara blinks at him in surprise as he plops down on the picnic blanket where she's nursing Thomas. She darts a quick glance at Abel - who's with a couple of small kids playing some game that consists of chasing each other and squealing as loud as possible - before turning to him so he can kiss her._

"_Time off for good behavior." He moves closer, wrapping his arms around her while she snuggles against him. Actually, that's not far off from the truth. Since the Club voted to start muling drugs for the Galindo Cartel a couple of days ago, Clay's been all sorts of grateful to him for his backing on the vote. And Jax parlayed that gratitude to skip a short run this weekend; he'd wanted to escape with Tara to their special place for a couple of days of camping and marathon sex. She'd made some important promises to him during his fourteen months in Stockton - like going skinny dipping and tattooing her name on his dick with her tongue; the woman's going to be his wife, he needed to make sure she kept her promises. Which she did. A few times._

_When they got back to town this morning, he'd gone to the Clubhouse to check in while she picked up the boys from Gemma's to start Abel Day - a pancake, park and animated movie fest that Tara invented while Jax was in Stockton to make her little boy happy. But after a couple of hours, mostly spent bickering with Bobby and Piney about the cartel, Jax couldn't resist the pull of her and ditched his Brothers to spend the rest of the day with his family._

_He kisses the top of her head then gazes down at their baby boy; it never fails to amaze Jax how much Thomas' such a beautiful blend of both him and Tara. Of course, Jax loves the fact that Thomas looks exactly like him - except for those gorgeous green eyes that he'd inherited from Tara. Those big eyes twinkle up at him in greeting as Thomas continues to suckle his mother greedily._

"_Just remember, Kid - those puppies are a temporary rental; they belong to me." Jax strokes his son's soft cheek, then smiles mischievously against Tara's hair when his hand brushes against her breast once, twice…_

"_I can't believe you're feeling me up in front of your kids, not to mention a bunch of preschoolers and their moms," she scolds laughingly, but doesn't stop him - so he doesn't stop. Then sighing wistfully, she looks down at Thomas. "I have to admit I'm a little sad that the boys won't get to have as much fun at this park as we did growing up. I've always loved this park."_

"_Yeah, me too." Jax's smile widens as Abel shrieks with laughter as he eludes another little boy trying to catch him. "We'll just have to find a place with a neighborhood park nearby. Can't deprive them of cute little girls saving them from mean bullies who steal their bikes."_

_Tara giggles at the memory and kisses his stubbly cheek. "I just hope neither of them inherit their old man's bad habit of eating sand." She grins at what must be offended outrage on his face. "Don't even try and deny it, Baby. I was there, remember? You couldn't get enough. It's just a good thing you didn't know what Opie did in that sand..."_

The vibrating buzz from his cel phone snaps him out of his reverie. Skeeter. Sighing heavily as grim reality sets in again, he answers the call.

* * *

"You know all this cloak and dagger shit is getting old," Jax snaps at the blond lawyer emerging from the black SUV. When the AG's chief hatchet man called earlier, he'd pretty much ordered Jax to meet him at a private location, which turned out to be the Charming cemetery.

"Relax, Teller. You'll thank me later." Reese motions for Jax to follow as he walks towards the columbarium, supposedly where they could talk and not be seen - not there's a single person visible anywhere. Jax can't help but flash back to when he'd used this place to meet with another overly-ambitious government asshole; ATF Agent Stahl had been a back-stabbing, murderous bitch who'd killed her own partner to cover her own lying ass. He'll find out soon enough if he's got another one of her on his hands in the form of a cryptic state's attorney.

Reese reaches into his suit pocket, causing Jax to tense and reach for his gun. Shaking his head, the other man eyes him reprovingly, pulling out a bundle of folded papers that he hands to Jax. "Seriously, Teller, you really need to work on your trust issues. Why would I lure you out to the Charming cemetery in broad daylight to kill you?"

Grabbing the papers, Jax returns the man's glare. "I've got no fucking idea why you're doing any of this." As he glances at the document, his eyes widen in disbelief. "Jesus Christ…what the hell?"

"Call it a show of faith," Reese replies. "You get to see the final crime scene report before the Sheriff and the DA. You see? I wouldn't be giving this to you if I didn't think we could work together. Hell, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't know shit since Patterson's adamant about keeping you in the dark. For some reason, she thinks you might be prone to violence if you knew how…Dr. Knowles died."

There it is again – something's off in the man's tone; before Jax can probe further, his eyes latch on to the grisly photo of his kitchen - markers placed on the bloody floor where Tara and Roosevelt's bodies had been found. He'll never forget all the blood spattered everywhere, but for the first time he sees how much had spilled from Tara into the sink - turning the dishwater a deep, dark red.

"_Dr. Knowles' killer had tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - six times. And with enough force to crack her skull." _ A red mist coats Jax's vision as his legs buckle; he's forced to brace himself against the stone wall to keep from sliding to his knees. When he finally collects his shit, the volcanic rage - which he'd managed to bury for a while - shoots to the surface with a vengeance.

"Why…" He grits out, eyes never leaving the bloody photo. "Why the hell are you telling me all of this? What the fuck's your game, man?" Jax looks up and meets ice cold blue eyes, not unlike his own.

Reese stares at him for a long moment, his jaw hardening as if trying to decide whether to renege on his earlier claim that he's not here to kill. Jax can sense that, for some unknown reason, the other man hates him - a realization that doesn't bother him in the slightest since his own feelings toward the state's golden boy have rapidly degraded from initial distrust to intense dislike.

Pulling the crime scene report from Jax's grip, Reese glares down at the bloody photo. "Before I joined the AG's office, I was a prosecutor in the San Francisco DA's office for years. And for years, I was forced to make deals with murderers and rapists and drug dealers - all kinds of human slime. It was always the worst sort of criminals that had some kind of leverage they could trade to save them from getting the punishment they deserved."

Handing the report back to Jax, Reese reaches into the front pocket of his impeccably tailored black suit and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. "That's what might happen here, Teller. Jarry and her deputies might be able to find the murderer, but then what? The lowlife scumbag agrees to rat out another lowlife scumbag, who's higher on the criminal food chain, in exchange for a couple of years in Stockton and a decade on parole? Does that sound like justice to you?"

Where the fuck was this crazy asshole going with this? "You're the fucking lawyer," Jax grits out through clenched teeth. "You don't have to make any goddamn deals." What he doesn't say is that there's no fucking way that the animal who killed Tara will ever live long enough to get to trial.

Shaking his head, Reese scowls at him. "You know better than that, Teller. How much time did you and your 'Brothers' do on that federal gun charge? Fourteen months? That's bullshit time and you know it; yet the feds agreed because you served up a bigger fish - a bigger IRA fish…" A slow, grim smile tugs at his lips. "But then not long after your arrest - Jimmy O'Phelan was found murdered, along with the ATF agent who'd taken custody of him. What a strange series of events…"

The fragile thread holding on to Jax's patience snaps. "If you've got something to say, just fucking say it. I don't have the time or interest in your political career shit."

Once again Reese shoots him a long, measuring stare - as if assessing his suitability for some goddamn thing. Whatever it is, Jax's ready to tell the asshole to go fuck himself. He's had enough of the man's bullshit.

But before he can open his mouth, Reese thrusts the folded piece of paper at him. "This is a list of recently released criminals with homicide or assault records who could've had a grudge against Sheriff Roosevelt. I would appreciate if you could look at the names and see if any of these men might've had a problem with you or…Dr. Knowles."

Stunned, Jax accepts the paper and tries not to gape at the lifelong public servant. "And if I see a name or two that might look familiar? Is this some kind of fucked-up trap to get me back inside?"

"Like it or not, you're going to have to trust me on this, Teller. But I can assure you that we want the same thing - justice for an innocent woman." Reese shoves his hands in his pockets, grim rage spreading across his face. "She didn't die easily, you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive…I hate thinking of what she must've suffered those last few minutes of her life - so much fear, so much pain…"

Jax slams his eyes shut as he presses his forehead against the stone wall, fighting desperately for control; he can't let his grief consume him. He clutches the papers Reese gave him tightly; no, he's fucking done walking around like an open sore. It's fucking time to set the goddamn world on fire.

"Whatever you decide to do…" Jax hears Reese whisper in his ear. "Just make sure it's excruciating."

* * *

"Can we talk for a second?" Margaret Murphy blocks his entrance to the daycare.

He does need to talk to her about the boys, but he's in no fucking mood for that now. Not when his blood's still boiling, his mind still ravaged with brutal images of Tara dying painfully. "I'm kind of in a hurry, can it wait until tomorrow?"

She hesitates for a second before plowing forward. "It's about Abel. Jax, it's getting worse. He still won't talk - just withdrawing more and more every day. And he won't leave Thomas, not even for a second - it's like he's afraid of losing his little brother like he lost his mother."

Jax drags his hand through his hair. What the fuck does she expect him to do? Abel won't talk to him either. This morning, he'd dragged his hung-over ass out of bed to make breakfast for the boys - only to find Abel in Thomas' room, feeding his little brother goldfish crackers between the crib bars. "What should I do, Margaret? He won't open up to me either. Every time I try to talk to him, he ignores me or runs off. Maybe he blames me for what happened to Tara…" And he wouldn't be wrong, Jax tells himself bitterly.

"My husband, Dave, is a retired children's guidance counselor. It's not the same as a child psychologist by any means. But it's the closest thing we have right now with Dr. Wong, our resident expert, on vacation out of the country for the next couple of weeks. If you're okay with it, I can bring him here to meet with Abel."

"That would be great." He tries to smile, but fails miserably. "Just let me know how much…"

Shaking her head vigorously, Margaret frowns. "Oh no, we couldn't take your money. Dave adored Tara, we both did…" She pulls off her glasses to swipe the tears from her eyes. "Thank you for agreeing to this. I hope Dave can help him, even a little bit." Then before Jax can say anything, she mutters something about a meeting and walks away.

Entering the daycare, he braces himself from another round of silence from Abel and screaming fit from Thomas. The daycare manager - who's name he can never remember - smiles politely at him as she opens the door to the playroom. "Mr. Teller, you should know that some books that Dr. Knowles had ordered for the boys finally arrived; I put them in Abel's backpack." She says it hesitantly, as if she's not sure of his reaction. He nods distractedly as he's hit with the sound of the daycare aide reading an all-to-familiar story.

"'_Once upon a time in Spain, there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand. All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not Ferdinand. He like to sit quietly and smell the flowers'..."_

_Abel giggles loudly. "That's so silly. Bulls don't smell flowers, Mommy."_

_Standing in the playroom doorway, he can't help but grin. Abel always says that when she reads this book to him - and as a skeptical nine-year-old, Jax'd said nearly the same thing when he'd listened to Tara read the same story to his little brother, Tommy._

"_Well Ferdinand's a special bull, sweetie." Tara tells him, finger-combing his hair as he rocks back and forth on her lap. She tickles a gurgling Thomas, lying contently on the blank next to them, before continuing with the story - to the delight of the handful of enthralled kids sitting around her. "...'All the other bulls who had grown up with him in the same pasture would fight each other all day. They would butt each other and stick each with their horns. What they wanted most of all was to be picked to fight at the bull fights in Madrid. But not Ferdinand…'"_

"_But why wouldn't Ferdinand want to be in bull fights?" A small curly-haired boy asks. "He's a bull. Isn't that what bulls do?"_

"_Well some do, Carlos, but not all of them. Ferdinand doesn't want to fight, he likes smelling flowers. He's a very smart bull because that's what I would rather do than fight." She giggles as a chorus of excited "Me, too!" shouts fill the air._

_The story's almost finished by the time she finally notices him leaning against the door gazing at her - like the big Spanish bull mooning over his favorite flower. In the corner of his eye, he can see the daycare manager and her aide smirking at him; they must think it's hilarious to see the bad-ass SAMCRO President getting all googly-eyed at the sight of his wife reading a kid's book to half-a-dozen toddlers and preschoolers._

_She flashes him a blinding smile that curls his toes. "'So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy.'"*_

"Mr. Teller?" The daycare manager looks at him worriedly, as if afraid he's going to relapse right there in front of her.

Forcing a smile, he takes Thomas' carrier and Abel's hand and leads his boys out of there. As they walk to the car, he can't help but think about that simple story he's heard her read probably a hundred times. He'd chosen the bull fights instead of a peaceful life with the beautiful flowers. And unlike that fucking lucky bull, he'll probably never be happy again.

* * *

In the car, he tells the boys of the change of plans; they'll be staying with Grandma for a couple of days because Daddy has some work to do. Once again, he may as well have saved his goddamn breath as Abel stares sullenly out the window while Thomas plays with his toes.

Gemma frowns as Abel stiffens when she tries to hug him then refuses to take off his ever-present backpack. "Jesus, how long is he going to be like this?" Her worried eyes follow her oldest grandson as he switches on the TV then climbs onto the couch next to Thomas, who's still in his carrier playing with his toes.

"I don't know, Mom. His mother just died, I don't think there's a fucking timetable for getting over something like that." At her stricken look, he sighs heavily and squeezes her arm. "I'm sorry….I did talk to Margaret Murphy today, and she's going to have her husband - who used to be some kind of kid counselor - start working with him. Who knows, maybe it'll help Abel to talk to someone else. He sure as hell isn't talking to me."

His mother wrinkles her nose in distaste; obviously there's no love lost between the two women. Jax wonders if Gemma blames Margaret for encouraging Tara to pursue a job in Oregon. But then it doesn't fucking matter how his mother feels about it; this is about getting help for Abel. If she doesn't like it, tough shit. His thoughts must've been reflected on his face because she'd opened her mouth to protest, only to deflate with a scowl.

Jax doesn't want to get into a fight with her; he's too fucking amped-up inside, and his kids are sitting a few feet away. So he changes the subject to something he needed to talk to her about anyway. "Mom, do you remember who Tara used to clean the Galindo cash? I think he's a friend of Bobby's?"

She blinks in surprise, no doubt by the seeming randomness of his question. "Yeah, his name's Marco DeNotti - one of those Italians who knew Bobby's dad. You don't think he had anything to do with what happened to Tara…? Jackson, the man's almost seventy."

"No, 'course not. I was just trying to remember his name," he lies.

But his mom's nobody's fool; she looks at him probingly. "Something happen today?" He hasn't not told her about meeting with Lowen about Tara's will, not sure if he ever will.

Shaking his head, Jax walks towards his boys to kiss them goodnight. "No, just met with Rosen about a few things."

He tries not to flinch when Abel doesn't respond to the kiss Jax drops on his forehead; turning to Thomas, it feels like a major victory that his baby boy's not crying as Jax strokes his chubby cheek.

He turns to leave. "Thanks, Mom. Just promise me that you'll them to daycare. It's important that Abel meets with Margaret's husband." He pulls her into a hug as she nods reluctantly. "Oh, and thanks again for getting Rosen back on board. The guy's still a complete asshole, but he's good. Just let me know how much I owe you; I can take over his retainer from now on."

Gemma shoots him a puzzled look. "I didn't hire him, Jax. Bobby and the guys did. Until he just showed up at the hospital, I hadn't seen him in a couple of years."

* * *

Jax stalks through his house, his brain churning in overdrive. The day's been a series of total mindfucks: Tara's will, the mystery cash in her safety deposit box, another soul-crushing encounter with Reese and now…who the fuck hired his lawyer? His skin prickles with unease as he cycles through all of his conversations with Rosen, but nothing triggers any suspicion that the former long-time SAMCRO lawyer might be trying to screw him.

He'd pulled out his phone to call Rosen and demand answers, but then his fingers touched the papers that Reese had given him earlier. No time to confront the lawyer now, he can do that in the morning. There's more important things to do now. Jax hits the all-too familiar speed-dial button, gratified when Bobby answers right away.

Inhaling sharply as his whole body shakes with rage, he fixates once again on the x-ray image of Tara's cracked skull - courtesy of the crime scene report. "Get the guys together," he barks into the phone. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Hanging up the phone, he glances down at the leather cut that he's not worn since that fateful day. He'd thought that maybe he could walk away from everything that Tara hated; that he could quickly find and execute her killer then take the boys and escape this fucking town. He can still do that; his sons will not grow up here - he can keep that promise. But in order to find the monster who did this to her, he realized from reading the list Reese gave him, he can't do it alone.

He glances at the framed photo of him and Tara taken on their wedding day, he kisses one of his fingers then brushes it across her gorgeous, smiling face. "I'm so sorry, Babe. But it'll work out, I promise."

Shrugging on the leather cut, he glances down at the President's patch then walks out the front door.

* * *

*_The Story of Ferdinand_ by Munro Leaf


	6. Distraction and Remorse

AN: SOOO sorry for the long delay. It's been a long, busy month at work - but I'm finally on vacation so now have time to write. It drives me a little crazy that I've had this whole story mapped out for months but have had such little time to write (although I do admit to being a slow writer as I'm somewhat OCD with word selection). Thanks for being patient with me!

* * *

**Chapter 5: DISTRACTION AND REMORSE**

"_Has CSU sent over the crime scene report for the Roosevelt-Knowles murders?" Jarry asks the deputy sitting at the desk by her office. It's been days since they've processed all the evidence from the Teller's kitchen and the crime scene cleared, yet so far she hasn't seen or heard shit about the results - despite her repeated inquiries. If she doesn't get that final report soon, she's mounting the CSU Chief's fucking head on a stick._

"_Not that I know of, ma'am." The deputy shakes his head. "But you'll want to see this…" He plucks a file folder from one of his stacks and hands it to her. "It's a preliminary report of all the follow-ups done today on the persons of interests. We haven't had a chance to talk to everyone on the list, but most are there. Plus a couple of leads we got in the process."_

"_Thanks," Jarry smiles appreciatively and takes the file. "When you get a minute, can you text Cane and let him know that I want to talk to him first thing tomorrow morning?"_

_The deputy nods, and Jarry heads into her office. She really should get home and get some sleep but can't resist the lure of what might be in that file folder. Most of the time these things wind up being a fucking waste of time as the lowlifes they talk to often belong to the "know nothing-see nothing-hear nothing" tribe, assholes who'd rather shoot cops instead of help them. Fucking ironic in this case._

_Sitting at her desk, she flips open the file and starts to read…_

* * *

"Good to see you sitting there where you belong, Pres." Bobby grins at him from across the table while the others nod enthusiastically in accord. Jax tries to smile back, but fails miserably - nodding grimly at all of them instead; although he's grateful for his Brothers' unconditional love and support, he can't get past knowing that Club business somehow led to Tara's murder. Had he just fucking walked away like he promised her...

His hand tightens on the gavel as he forces those thoughts away; nothing's more crippling than guilt, and he can no longer afford to let it shroud and distract him. Reese's right, it's time to use his rage and his resources to hunt down Tara's killer. Even if it means returning to the head of the table she'd come to hate.

He looks pointedly at Juice, sitting quietly in his regular seat, looking sick to his stomach (no doubt still worrying about what Jax's going to do to him for squealing about Darvany's murder). "Juice, I want you to get online and put together some quick intel on Nick Reese, former San Francisco prosecutor now Chief Deputy Attorney General. Especially anything that might link him to Tara. Now."

After Juice scurries off to do his President's bidding, Jax tells the remaining men about his two enlightening - albeit disturbing - encounters with the Chief Deputy AG; how the man seems to be working both with and against Patterson and the new Sheriff - calling the shots in the investigation then revealing the confidential autopsy and crime scene evidence to Jax. He's surprised at how calm and emotionless his voice sounds as he recounts the grisly details of Tara's brutally protracted and agonizing death; he's also surprised that the gavel hasn't splintered in half from his choking, white-knuckled grip.

"Jesus…" Chibs hisses under his breath, wiping his wet eyes with his palms - as if trying to erase the horrifying images invading his brain. Looking around the table, Jax realizes that his VP's not the only one visibly shaken by his painful revelation; every one of his Brothers - hardened career criminals who'd each seen more than a dozen men's fair share of violent death - seems to be struggling with his composure. Even Happy had cringed and closed his eyes.

"So why the hell did this guy tell you all this shit?" Bobby lifts his head from his hands to growl at Jax. "How do you know he's not trying to manipulate you into retaliating and then take you down for all of it?"

"I don't know," Jax admits; despite the fact Reese handed over all the intel that Patterson had denied him, he didn't trust the over-polished prick. "Nothing the guy's done has made any fucking sense to me. That's why I want Juice to check him out. Rosen's told me some shit about him, but nothing that tells me why he'd be so interested in Tara's murder that he'd break protocol. I can't imagine this is how the AG works cases or that Patterson would be too happy if she knew."

Reaching into his sweatshirt pocket, he pulls out the list of names that Reese gave him just a few hours ago. "Apparently Reese's got the Sheriff going through Roosevelt's jacket to see if anyone might've had a serious beef with him. He gave me this list of the bad guys they've flagged; I'm supposed to check if any of these guys had issues with SAMCRO or me personally...Only one name stands out." He hands the paper to Chibs, whose eyes widen – no doubt because of the name at the top of the page.

"Oh shit…" Chibs passes the list to Tig, who quickly scans the names.

"Fucking shit…" Tig echoes. "Alvarez."

"You really think Alvarez would kill Tara?" Bobby asks incredulously. "Deliberately start a street war? Because he knows that's exactly what he'll get; that we'd retaliate hard and butcher them all for doing that to her." Once again his face twists with grief. "Alvarez was pissed about us giving the guns to Marks, but this…" He shakes his head. "I don't know, Jax...We've had bad blood with the Mayans before, but he's never gone after women or innocents."

When Jax first saw Alvarez's name on the list, he'd nearly taken off for Oakland to confront the Mayan President, violently if necessary. But then, a rare visit from his voice of reason penetrated his rage-filled brain and reminded him of his boys waiting to be picked up from daycare. Fucking good thing - maybe Bobby's right and Alvarez wouldn't attack Jax's family; in any event, going up against Brown alone would've been goddamn stupid - and an easy trip back to the hospital or the morgue.

Chibs and Tig exchange meaningful looks before Tig drops the bomb. "But Alvarez's already started a street war with the Niners. At least that's what's going to happen once Marks and Tyler find out that it was the Mayans who took out a bunch of their guys at the meet last week. Hell, they probably already know and are just planning their next move. Marks is a Pope clone; he plans this shit out."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jax snaps at him; rubbing his forehead, which is starting to pound again. "The Mayans gunned down Tyler's guys at the meet we called?"

"That would be correct." Chibs confirms, nodding. "Barosky heard from his cop friends that four bodies with Niners ink were found at that junkyard outside Oakland - with a bunch of motorcycle tracks all around them. So that's either the Mayans or us."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?" An ugly realization along with ice cold fury blasts through Jax, curling his hands into tight fists. "Maybe a war is what he wants," he snarls. "If the Mayans take down Marks and SAMCRO, then the Irish will have no choice but to distribute through Alvarez and Lin…That son-of-a-bitch…that goddamn greedy son-of-a-bitch…If he killed Tara, I fucking swear…"

"Jax, we don't know that Alvarez is involved in any of this yet," Bobby interrupts, trying to infuse some sanity to diffuse Jax's escalating fury-fueled insanity. "We can't just declare war on the Mayans with just Barosky's cop gossip. Even if it is true and they killed those Niners, we've got nothing to prove Alvarez had anything to do with what happened to Tara. I'm with you all the way, Brother." Bobby glances around the table. "And so is everyone at this table…But if you want to take on Brown, then we'll need all the other charters to back our play. But as much as they all love you, Brother, those votes won't go our way unless we have proof the Mayans killed Tara."

Jax buries his face in his shaking hands, both to calm his explosive temper and the spearing pain that's now spread to his whole fucking skull. He instinctively knows that his Brothers believe that Bobby's right and, despite his inner demons demanding instant action to avenge Tara, he also knows that Bobby's right. "Okay," Jax sighs resignedly, dropping his hands to look up and face his Brothers. "Chibs, set a meet with Alvarez tomorrow; tell him I just want to talk to him."

Chibs nods, looking somewhat relieved, then reaches out to grip Jax's shoulder. "Bobby's right; we're with you all the way, Jackie. All the way."

* * *

"So this is all the info on Nick Reese that I could find for now." Before Jax dismissed Church, he wanted to hear whatever intel Juice could dig up on Reese. He needs to know who the fuck this guy is besides some legal hotshot who Rosen thinks will be Governor someday. Christ, he's definitely moving his boys out of California. Juice flips open his laptop, typing furiously on the keyboard until he gets the website he wants. "This guy is California political royalty. If there is such a thing."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tig scowls. "This is America. We don't do that king/queen shit here. Well except for motorcycle clubs." He shoots Jax a snarky grin.

"It means that he comes from a long line of fucking politicians." Juice clarifies, not looking up from the computer screen. "His father used to be the California then US Attorney General, his mother used to be a federal judge - she's now the Dean of Stanford Law School, his older brother's a state senator and to top it all off, his maternal grandfather used to be Governor. Talk about getting raised with high expectations."

"Oh shit, I remember his old man…" Bobby peers at Juice's laptop screen.

"You knew his old man?" Rat barks out in laughter. "You must've traveled in some fancy circles back then."

"I didn't know the guy personally, smart ass." Bobby cuffs him lightly across the head. "I heard about him. But only because he got murdered or assassinated or whatever they call gunning down a guy running for office. He'd just ended his term as the US AG and was running for Governor of California when some nut-job pulls out a piece at a charity dinner and blows him away. Never found out why though...The guy's lawyer convinced the judge that the guy was crazy - no shit - so instead of death row, the he got life in prison. Vaguely recall that he didn't last too long inside, though."

Jax frowns as unease prickles his neck. He's got no fucking clue what that might have to do with him, given he's never heard about Reese's old man until now, but somehow he can't shake the feeling that something about Reese Sr.'s murder has to be motivating Reese Jr. in some way. "When was this?" Jax asks, searching his memory; he's never given two shits about politics or politicians but even he would remember an assassination of such a public figure.

"A long time ago," Bobby tells him. "When you were in Stockton, the first time. That's probably why you don't remember; current events aren't exactly popular topics among gen pop." Yeah that would explain it; during his first stint in Stockton, he spent the time learning to broker alliances and trying not to think about Tara non-stop. He nods at Juice to continue.

"The guy's been with the California AG's office for four years so it's been a quick rise to the top Deputy's job. I'm sure having his family connections help, but his track record's unreal - both with the AG and in the San Francisco DA's office; he's put a lot of people away for a lot of years. Although, according to some of the interviews he's given, he would've preferred lethal injection."

"Rosen told me that he and his boss are on a mission about that. The AG's got a thing for frying cop killers - which is why Rosie thinks she might be hot for this case. But Reese wants _me_ to execute Tara's killer; I heard that loud and clear. I just don't know why."

Juice shakes his head. "I couldn't find any connection with this guy and Tara, Jax. He's from Marin County in San Francisco - not exactly our circles, graduated from Stanford Law School and - up until a year ago - he was married to the girl he dated in law school; she's a partner at some big law firm in San Francisco. That's all I got for from his state bio and some quick Google searching. I can dig around some more tomorrow, look into old cases and shit." Juice looks at him hopefully, as if he can work himself off of Jax's shit list with a few internet searches. Not fucking likely.

But Jax's too tired to deal with the fucking rat right now, and he does need him to dig up what he can on Reese. "Sounds good, thanks."

Once again he looks around the table, and this time, he manages a faint smile. "Thanks to all of you; frankly I don't know what I'd fucking do without you guys right now. I'm sorry I've been so distant, I've got a lot going on and…" The understanding look on his Brothers' faces tell him he doesn't need to explain shit to them; they're supporting him no matter what. His smile broadens as he bangs the gavel ending Church. Despite everything, he loves his Club, deeply loves the men he calls his Brothers. And he'll miss them like hell when leaves Charming with his sons and has to say goodbye to them forever.

* * *

"Hey Jax…Jax…" Chucky chases after him as he exits the Chapel. "Gemma called for you while you were in there. The boys are fine," he adds quickly as Jax's alarm must've spread all over his face. "She wants you to call her back when you're done here."

"Thanks, Chucky." Jax nods at him appreciatively then pulls out his phone to dial Gemma.

"What do you need Mom?" If it's not about Abel or Thomas, he's got no fucking clue what she could possibly be calling him about now.

"I forgot to tell you while you were here that I ran into Dr. Namid at the grocery store today, and he asked when we're having Tara's funeral. Apparently all the doctors want to be there to pay their respects. I know you've been too distracted to deal with the arrangements so I can handle this for you, Jax. The coroner's going to have to release her body soon so we should have a plan ready…"

Jax closes his eyes as he musters as much patience as he can, which isn't fucking much. What he does with Tara is nobody's goddamn business but his; she belongs to him - she always has and always will. "There isn't going to be a funeral, Mom," he answers loud enough for all his Brothers to hear. Two birds, one stone. "Lowen said that Tara wanted her body donated to her medical school."

"What?" Gemma shrieks, loud enough for Jax to pull the phone away from his ear. "And you agreed to that? That's insane, Jackson. What the hell are you going to tell your sons?"

"Mom, believe me, missing Tara hurts worse than anything in this goddamn world; there's no way a fucking piece of rock with her name on it will ease any of that pain - not for them or for me. So I'm not going to tell them shit right now; they're too young to understand anyway."

"So what should I tell the doctors at St. Thomas? Shouldn't we at least have a memorial? I…"

"St. Thomas can do whatever the fuck they want. Look, I can't deal with this right now; I got to go. Bye, mom." He hangs up before she can sputter any more outrage at him. It doesn't surprise him that Gemma would want to plan a proper service for Tara: obviously for Club reasons - the wife of the SAMCRO President merits a full funeral procession with all charters attending (not that Tara would've wanted that) - and also, despite their crazy-volatile relationship, he does believe that his mother loved Tara, even through the bad shit. But it doesn't fucking matter what his mom wants; the coroner's releasing Tara tomorrow and he's already got his plan in place.

* * *

Jax opens his bedroom closet and stares at the suitcases lining the floor - the suitcases that Tara had packed the night she'd taken the boys and left him. On his first night back from the hospital, Chucky had told him that - after the sheriffs cleared the crime scene - he'd taken the bags from Tara's SUV and put them in the house. Jax'd unpacked the boys' clothes, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to open Tara's bags - until now; now he needs to find something specific for tomorrow.

Sighing heavily, Jax scrubs his hands across his face. Tomorrow's going to be a hard fucking day; not that there's been an easy one yet. But he's got a potentially dangerous confrontation with Alvarez to gauge his involvement in Tara's murder, a potentially contentious meet with Rosen to find out who the hell hired the lawyer to represent him and …the coroner's releasing Tara's body tomorrow. His hand tighten around the now half-empty bottle of whiskey; he'd told himself that he'd stop drinking for his boys' sake, but Abel and Thomas aren't here tonight, and he sorely needs the hundred proof bourbon's numbing effects.

Jax sifts through the bags quickly, as if afraid the lingering touch of her clothes could burn him. He finds what he's looking for in the second bag: a silky dark green dress with spaghetti straps and a flowing skirt. Tara's never been one to wear dresses, mostly just on special occasions - and this dress, he'd wanted her to have for a really special occasion. He'd been lucky as hell to be there when she bought it.

"_Hi Baby, fancy running into you here." Stepping out of her car, Tara smiles in surprise before pressing a soft kiss to his lips in greeting. Then noticing that he's not alone, she flips a small wave at Bobby and Chibs. "Hi guys."_

_It'd been pure coincidence that he and his Brothers had been finishing up some business when he caught sight of Tara's SUV angling into a parking spot across the street. "Yeah, my lucky day…" Flashing a grin, he lifts her hand to drop a kiss on her wedding ring. "Where you headed?"_

_She nods in the direction of Sally Brennan's dress shop, the only place he's known her to buy dresses ever since high school. "'Our' dress is ready." She grins at him, green eyes twinkling impishly at the other men's raised eyebrows. "I still need to try it on and would love to get your opinion. Come over if you can…" His blood surges with excitement at her saucy smile; it's all he can do to keep from scampering after her like an eager puppy when she heads into the shop._

_Turning to his Brothers, Jax tries to mask what must be a goofy fucking grin on his face while ignoring his Brothers' amused smirks. However, all levity vanishes as they finish discussing their plans for the impending meet with the Irish and Galindo next week. After Jax's third glance towards the dress shop, Bobby and Chibs tell him they've got the next steps covered and to go help his wife with "their" dress._

_The shop's empty except for a skinny teen-age girl reading a romance novel who tells him that Tara's in the dressing room. Thanking the girl with a wink and a smile, he practically sprints to the back of the store and knocks on the door._

_They're finally planning the wedding party that Jax had promised her the day they got married in that rushed ceremony at Diosa. When he asked her if she could find a dress similar to the pale green one she'd worn to Gemma and Clay's wedding, she'd been surprised that he even remembered. Then he'd stunned her into open-mouthed shock by opening his wallet and pulling out the photo of them from the wedding that he's been carrying around since they were sixteen._

"_What do you think?" Tara twirls around as Jax's jaw drops to the floor. The dress isn't an exact match, but it's perfect - fucking perfect. Held up by thin spaghetti straps, it clings to her lush breast before flowing to the tops of her knees in silky pleats. The dark green color sets off the sparkle in her eyes and the porcelain perfection of her smooth skin. He's thinking it's even better than the pale green dress because he can see those perfect long legs. _

"_It's beautiful, Babe. Perfect." He pulls her into his arms and pecks at her lips. "But that's because of you."_

"_You bikers are such smooth talkers." She tweaks his goatee. "I can't wait to dance with you in this dress. You're sure you like it?"_

"_Fucking love it," he rasps then devours her mouth as he pushes her back into the dressing room then kicks the door shut. Holy shit, he couldn't stop touching her if he tried; his hand running up and down her bare arms before sliding down to cup and knead that perfect silk-covered ass, pressing her tight against his stiff dick._

_So engrossed by the intoxicating taste and feel of her, he doesn't realize she'd completely unbuttoned his shirt until it falls to the ground along with his cut. "Let's play a game," she whispers hotly in his ear before pulling his t-shirt over his head and starts plucking open his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down his legs until he's bare-assed naked. Wrapping her arms around him, she pecks at his lips. "Whoever comes first has to make dinner tonight."_

_His last ounce of sanity has him darting a glance at the dressing room door - as if waiting for the teenage shop girl or some other customer to come banging on the door (it wouldn't be the first time). Even so, his hands continue to search franticly for the zipper at the back of her dress._

_Tara strokes his goatee with one hand, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Jenny's already locked up for the night. I'm her last customer." Her other hand reaches down to squeeze his cock. "So you want to play my game, Baby? Or do you want to go home and watch Disney movies with the boys and Elyda."_

"_Where the fuck is the goddamn zipper," he growls trying not to rip the perfect dress to shreds._

_Laughing, Tara pushes him to sit down on the bench while she stands in front of him. "It's on the side." She lifts her arm to show him; then slowly, slowly tugs the zipper down, obviously enjoying the sight of his eyes glazing over and his dick twitching and hardening with each glimpse of exposed skin. Once the zipper hits the end, a sultry smile curves her lips as she slides the spaghetti straps down her arms until the dress falls to the floor - revealing that she remembers exactly what she wore under that pale green dress. Absolutely nothing._

_He fills his hands with those perfect breasts as she straddles him. "First one to come makes dinner," he confirms before rolling a thick pink nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, loving how she moans his name and tunnels her fingers through his hair. Somehow his brain's still operational as an idea pops into his head when he catches a glimpse of them in the full-length mirror on the wall; he runs a hand down the creamy skin of her back to stroke her tattoo. "Turn around, Babe."_

_Those green eyes gleam with interest as she cups his face then melts his brain with a long, slow kiss before flipping around so that her back's pressed against his chest. Lifting her slightly, he positions his cock at her soaking wet entrance then hisses with pleasure as she slides on to him, impaling herself to the hilt._

_Gripping her hips, he sets a slow, deep, rocking rhythm as he drags his tongue across the sensitive skin on her neck. Meeting her desire-darkened gaze in the mirror, he reaches up to cup her breasts, stroking her swollen nipples with his thumbs. "I want to watch you come, Babe," he whispers in her ear, sliding one hand between her legs to rub her clit with his fingers. With his dick pulsing deep inside her, his mouth nibbling her neck and his fingers stimulating her nipples and clit - she doesn't stand a fucking chance against him._

"_Oh god, Jax...Oh, Baby, yesss…" She's close; he can tell from her choppy breathing, sexy moans and tightening grip on his thighs as she rides him faster, harder, deeper. Fucking good thing as his own control's dissolving by the second with every scorching wet pussy clench that squeezes his cock, not to mention the mind-blowing image in the mirror of a gloriously naked Tara Knowles-Teller getting fondled and fucked senseless by her husband._

_But there's reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly, why no other woman in the history of time could ever remotely compare. Her luscious pink mouth curves into that saucy smile, sending excited prickles racing up and down his spine. Lifting her hand from his thigh, she sucks a finger into her mouth as her green eyes dance with his in the mirror. Before his lust-impaired brain can react, she slides that wet finger between his legs and presses hard against that ultra-ultra-sensitive spot right below his balls._

"_Oh shit, Tara…Holy fucking shit, Tara!" He doesn't know how long or loud he screams her name (and a shitload of profanity) as his dick, his balls and every cell in his fucking body explode in blazing, brain-melting ecstasy. Clutching her against him, he flattens his palm against her drenched mound to press her closer against him as his cock continues to spasm and holds her there until she's milked him dry._

_Leaning against the wall for support, he's still fucking destroyed when she extracts herself from him and starts picking up clothes. Watching her from behind half-closed eyes, he wonders how the fuck she's got enough energy to get dressed when it's taking all of his strength just to remain upright._

"_I'm going to tell Jenny that you like the dress." Fully clothed, she kneels before him and drops a soft kiss on his lips. "And I'm going to want a steak for dinner, Baby." Her green eyes twinkle at him as an impish smile tugs at her lips. "Make it a Porterhouse."_

Jax's eyes sting at the sight of the tags still attached to the dress with a tiny safety pin. They'd had to reschedule the party date a couple of times because of emergencies that'd come up with Galindo and with Pope. Then Otto killed the nurse in front of Tara, and nothing was ever right after that.

After the first cancelation, she'd told him that she didn't need a party to celebrate being married to him. _"I've wanted to be married to you my whole life, Jax." She wraps her arms around his neck and strokes his beard. "I love being you wife, Baby. When you're with me…well that's a celebration every day."_

Yeah, there's more than a few reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly - mainly because he loves her more than anything and everything is the whole fucking world. Then, now and always.


	7. Some Kind of Sign to Me

**Chapter 6: SOME KIND OF SIGN TO ME**

"_You wanted to see me?" Cane stands in front of her open door; Jarry motions for him to enter and have a seat while she finishes reading her texts._

"_Yeah, thanks for coming…You worked pretty closely with Sheriff Roosevelt, right?" Sliding into the seat, Cane nods uncertainly, not sure where she's going with the question. "Did he ever talk to you about any cases involving Juan Carlos Ortiz?"_

_Cane's eyes grow cold with anger. "Juice? You looking at him for killing Eli and Dr. Knowles?"_

_Shaking her head, Jarry realizes she's got a potential hothead on her hands; although all the deputies seen to be chomping at the bit to find Eli's killer and mount his head on their wall. Although she can whole-heartedly agree with that sentiment, running around half-cocked won't help shit. "I'm looking at no one and everyone, Cane. Reese wants us to follow-up on all the bad guys listed on Eli's jacket, and yesterday we found a file on Juice that was pretty much empty. I'm just wondering if it's worth a follow-up."_

_The deputy's brows wrinkle as he searches his memory for anything significant. "Nothing recent; I mean there might've been some shit between the two of them right after Juice and a bunch of Sons got paroled from Stockton. Hell, Roosevelt had me and Martinez arrest the guy for owning part of a weed shop - parole violation."_

"_Seriously? No offense, but that sounds more like harassment than law enforcement. Did you submit an arrest report? I didn't see anything like that in the file."_

_Cane shakes his head. "No, Roosevelt decided to let him go; didn't want to send him back to Stockton for a non-violent offense. Which I thought was kind of weird at the time since it was his idea to arrest Juice in the first place." He leans forward in his chair, his gaze intent. "If you ask me, I think he was shaking Juice down for something about SAMCRO. It was about the same time that the US Attorney was here conducting some investigation that they kept all hushed up. But then nothing happened and the feds left so I forgot about it."_

_There's something there; Jarry can definitely feel it. She's worked with cops who've gotten their jollies by dogging new parolees, trying to trip them up and send them back inside. But Eli wasn't one of those assholes; if he'd been dogging Juice, he had a reason._

_A text pops up on her phone that immediately draws her interest. "Well, I'm going to go talk to Juice right now. You should come with me. But keep it quiet for now; I don't want to take this to Reese or Patterson until we're sure there's something there." Rising, she picks up her phone and a file folder, which she hands to Cane. "And take a look at these follow-up reports, we can talk about them in the car."_

* * *

"You look like shit, Jax." Gemma glares at him as he walks into her kitchen where she's feeding the boys their breakfast. He bites back a cutting retort, mainly because he doesn't want to get into it with her in front of his sons; they're going through enough shit without their father and grandmother adding to the pile. And because he recognizes the worry and sadness in her eyes; it's not her fault that's he feels so goddamn lost that anger and alcohol seem to be the only way he can fucking cope.

He greets his sons with forced cheerfulness, kissing Thomas' chubby cheek before ruffling Abel's hair. Pulling out the chair next to his oldest son, he sits down and braces himself for another round of silent treatment. Fortunately, Gemma hands him a large mug of black coffee; he'll need to down a gallon of this shit to lose the goddamn hangover pounding at his skull.

"What time are you taking them over to daycare?" he asks; Margaret had texted him that her husband could meet with Abel this afternoon. Despite feeling like complete shit, Jax can't help but smile as he watches Abel line up rows of milky Cheerios from his cereal bowl on to Thomas' highchair tray - which his baby boy promptly snatches up and shoves into his mouth. Gemma, Margaret and the daycare manager had all told him about their problems getting Thomas to eat; apparently big brother Abel's got no such trouble.

Gemma pours more coffee into his mug; shit he must look that bad. "You know, I don't have anything going on today so I thought about keeping them with me. Go to the park, make cookies, watch movies…Sound like fun, Abel?"

Jax frowns in irritation; he'd fucking told her he wanted the boys in daycare. However, he glances at Abel to gauge his son's interest; at this point, he'll agree to anything that'll put even the smallest smile on his little boy's face. But it's as if she hadn't spoken; Abel remains silent, continuing to feed his little brother the cereal from his bowl. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Jax rises and leads her out of the room.

"Goddammit, Mom," he whispers furiously. "I told you I want Abel to meet Margaret's husband. My son's hurting and maybe this guy can help." At her skeptical look, he loses his weak-ass control over his temper. "I'm fucking serious about this. Tara wanted them in daycare, that's where they go. If I find out they miss even one goddamn day, I won't trust you with them again…"

"Okay, okay…" Gemma throws up her hands in mock surrender. "Jesus Christ, Jackson. You don't need to threaten me. I'm their grandmother, I want what's best for them, too. And if you think that's some total stranger poking around in Abel's head then…Well, that's what we'll do."

Exhaling as his anger fades, he squeezes her arm. "Thank you."

She glances towards the kitchen before turning her gaze on him. "I talked to Unser this morning. He's been trying to use his connections with the sheriffs to find out where they are with the investigation, but so far no one will tell him a goddamn thing. I don't know if they're just keeping quiet or because they don't know shit - with those fucking clowns, it's probably that last thing."

She must've seen something in his face because her eyes narrow as she grips his cut. "What is it…Jackson, what do you know?" There's a strange desperation in her eyes that he's not seen before, but chalks up to the same rage-filled determination that's driving him.

"We're going to see Alvarez today. Word is that he wasn't too happy about us giving the guns to Marks and took out a few Niners to make his point. Happened the same day Tara died so we got to find out exactly how pissed he was at me…"

Sheer horror spreads across her face as her mouth drops open in shock. "What makes you think that this was some kind of revenge on you? It could've been some bad shit with a crazy patient from the hospital or it could've been some random attack. You can't start up a street war with the Mayans…"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Mom. Ever since Tara moved back home, pretty much every bad fucking thing that's happened to her was because of me, because of the Club. And this…" He closes his eyes as horrific images invade his mind - her blood soaked body in his arms, the autopsy photo of the multiple stab wounds puncturing the back of her head, the x-ray of her cracked skull... "Whoever did this knew exactly what to do to hurt me the most. And if it turns out to be Alvarez, well…I'm going to do more than just kill him. He knows me, he knew Tara. If he made her suffer to teach me some fucking lesson, I'm going to wipe out everything in his goddamn world."

"Jax, please." She grabs his arm as he turns to leave, her eyes wet and worried. "Don't do anything rash; you've got to think about your sons - they can't lose their father. Nero…"

"...will have to choose sides. Although I'm pretty sure where he'll land. He and Alvarez go way back. Look Mom, don't freak out over this. I'm just going over there to talk. For now."

Returning to the kitchen, he crouches between his boys. He squeezes Thomas' foot then swallows hard at the sight of Tara's beautiful green eyes staring back at him. Brushing away a piece of cereal sticking to his baby son's plump cheek, Jax plants a lingering kiss atop his head.

Then turning to Abel, he cups his oldest son's face and kisses forehead. "Hey buddy, I need you to do me a favor today. Margaret wants you to meet a friend of hers and Mommy's. It would be really great if you could talk to him because I know that when I'm really sad, I can talk to my friends - like Uncle Bobby and Uncle Chibs. Maybe Margaret and Mommy's friend can be your friend, too."

Something flickers in Abel's blue eyes and, for a split-second, Jax thinks he might've broken through, but then Abel turns his attention back to his cereal bowl and starts lining more Cheerios on to Thomas' tray. Containing his disappointment, Jax gazes at both his boys as he rises to his feet. "Daddy loves you both so much." Then nodding grimly at his mother, he walks out the door to start the rest of his day.

* * *

If Jax needed a reminder about the Mayans setting up a charter in Stockton, he gets it loud and clear as they ride to the designated meeting site; it's not as if Alvarez chose the Comstock location to save SAMCRO the travel time to Oakland.

Although Alvarez said it would be a couple of weeks before his new charter would be live in the port city, judging from the dozens of bikers wearing Mayan cuts riding the streets, Stockton already looks like home sweet home. Arriving at their destination - a run-down looking cantina swarming with Mayans - Jax orders Quinn, West and Montez to keep watch outside and for Tig, Happy and Ratboy to stay alert at the bar. Then Bobby and Chibs follow him to the private back room where the bartender said Alvarez's waiting for him.

Less than an hour ago, Jax'd told Gemma that any conflict between him and Alvarez would require Nero to choose sides. Walking into the dimly-lit room, he spots the Mayan President sitting at a large circular booth; it's more than clear who's sitting at his right.

Jax greets them with a nod as he slides into the booth while Chibs and Bobby sit down at a small table; their eyes trained on the Mayan soldiers standing by the door. "Looks like your Stockton charter's live." He accepts the shot glass of tequila that Alvarez slides in his direction. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"I'll always be an Oaktown boy." Alvarez sips his Reposado. "I've already picked someone else to lead this charter."

Jax's gaze immediately rests on Nero; angry bitterness filling him that his "friend" wouldn't have fucking told him something as massively troubling like taking over the Mayan's Stockton charter. Especially after Jax had trusted him with his plans for his family; plans he's told no one else.

"It's not me, Mano," Nero tells him quietly; his dark eyes sad, as if disappointed that Jax would leap to the conclusion that he had.

Alvarez darts glances at both men. "I met the new Sanwa Sheriff yesterday. Apparently she thinks that my past issues with that dead cop and with SAMCRO make me a 'person of interest' in a double murder. Usually, I don't give a shit about what people think I've done…I don't explain myself to fucking anybody."

He rubs his shoulder as if it pains him - or as if remembering the brilliant surgeon who'd diligently extracted the bullet that'd torn through muscle and bone, setting aside her own worry for Jax and terror over the death threat she'd received just that morning. "The Sheriff asked me where I was that afternoon; I didn't tell her a fucking thing because she hasn't got shit on me. But Nero thinks you should know - so for him and for the doctor, I'll tell you. Me and my crew were at a meet with Lin and his guys. You can take a guess on what we talked about."

Jax narrows his eyes, as he throws back the tequila, welcoming the burn as it slides down his throat. "Sorry but you got to understand that I'd have a hard time believing a goddamn thing coming from Lin. Given our recent history and all."

"He's not asking you to talk to Lin." Nero interjects quietly. "I was there, too. And that's why I'm here now…hoping that you'll believe me when I tell you it's the truth."

Alvarez picks up the bottle of tequila and refills Jax's glass. "You know how I feel about Marks getting control of the guns. Fucks up the balance; gives Black too much power and hurts me and my crew. Our business issues still need to be worked out…But whatever my troubles are with Marks and with you, I'll settle those with him and with you - with the Niners and with SAMCRO. No one else…not the cops and, sure as fuck, not an innocent mother of two little boys."

Jax frowns at Alvarez's words stir something at the back of his memory. He stares hard at the two men; despite the differences they've had, he knows that he can trust their word on this. Slowly, he nods.

Apparently Alvarez takes that as his cue to leave; rising, he clamps a hand on Jax's shoulder. "I'm sorry about Tara, Jax. I really am." He nods at Chibs and Bobby before leaving the room with the Mayan soldiers following in his wake.

But instead of leaving, Jax sits rooted to his seat as Alvarez's words bounce around his brain summoning the memory of another darkly lit bar, another potentially dangerous confrontation, another brutally murdered mother of two young children…

"_Someone went after one of my guys. Killed his wife by mistake…"_

"_Wasn't us." LaRoy replies simply. But Piney's on a mission; spewing his rage and his accusations that the Niners must've killed Donna because someone saw their "gangster SUV."_

_Despite the Niners' leader's cool demeanor through the old man's rants, Jax can tell LaRoy's patience's at an end. __"Our business issues still need to be worked out…But if my need to hurt SAMCRO took me to Charming, had me killin' women... Do you think we'd be sittin' here talkin'? I'm tellin' you the truth. Niners didn't kill your daughter…"  
_

Searching for Donna's killer launched a bloody street war between the Mayans and the Niners. Shit, he'd helped pin it on one of the Mayans in order to give Opie some closure; then framed the Niners to keep SAMCRO out of it because, in reality, the murderer was much closer to home.

If he's to believe the two men - which he does - then neither the Mayans nor Lin's crew could've killed Tara and Roosevelt. And Marks and the Niners have no motive; August Marks is smart enough to know that murdering Tara would enrage SAMCRO and destroy his new deal with the Irish (as fucked up as those Irish pricks are, they'd never countenance the savage murder of an innocent young mother).

Donna's death had been a mistake - a tragic case of wrong pace, wrong time; however, there's no fucking way Tara's death was any kind of an accident - the killer definitely knew who she was and what he was doing to her. Jax's blood freezes in his veins at the thought someone closer to home could be responsible.

"Jax…" He looks up to find Bobby and Chibs hovering above him then meets Nero's concerned eyes.

"I'm fine," he tells them all, sliding out of the booth.

"Do you still need me to meet you later?" Nero calls after him. Jax turns and faces the man who just prevented what could've been another bloody street war. "Yeah," he replies softly. "And thanks."

* * *

"What was that in there?" Bobby pulls him aside as his other Brothers strap on their helmets and start their bikes. "From where I'm standing it's pretty clear that it wasn't the Mayans or the Chinese who killed Tara. But you got this look…You think they're lying?"

Jax shakes his head; he really doesn't want to talk about this right now, he needs time to fucking think. "No…Just got some other shit on my mind…When we first hooked up with Galindo, I told Tara to get a safe deposit box for the cash. Gemma said that they talked to a friend of yours about cleaning it. Marco something…

"Marco DeNotti…Shit that was a while ago. You don't think…" Bobby wrinkles his brows in disbelief. "Dude's an old man Jax. Besides, the old geezer was crazy about Tara. There's no fucking way he could've or would've done that to her."

"I want to meet him." If anything, he's counting on the old guy to shed some light about the stacks of cash in Tara's safe deposit box, in case Rosen doesn't know or claims not to know. He's got no fucking clue what to expect or believe when it comes to his own lawyer.

Bobby eyes him questioningly then nods slowly. "He lives in an old folks' home in Lodi. I'll give him a call; we can swing by on our way home."

"Thanks, but I got some shit to deal with right now. Can you ask him if he can see me this afternoon? No offense, but I got to handle this personally." Bobby nods and steps aside to make the call.

Jax turns to Chibs and tells his VP to take over for the day - the guys have a lot of shit to do - and to keep an eye on Juice; they'd deliberately left the guy behind so he could continue collecting intel on Nick Reese and because Jax doesn't want the rat knowing more about their business than he already does.

After Bobby tells him the time and place for the meet with DeNotti this afternoon, Jax watches them all ride away. Ever since earning his Prospect patch, he's loved the thrill of riding in a pack with his Brothers, loved the oneness of the Sons of Anarchy. But now, like sitting at the head of the table, holding the gavel, wearing his President's cut - everything he'd ever wanted, or thought he wanted - he dreads it, maybe even hates it. The price was too fucking high.

He feels his cel phone buzz as a text pops onto the screen. His lawyer's ready to see him now.

* * *

"Something you forgot to tell me?" Jax tosses the stack of documents he pulled from Tara's safe deposit box on to Rosen's desk.

The lawyer picks up the papers, scanning the contents before staring at blankly at Jax. "Looks like Tara left you quite a bit of money. Congratulations."

"Cut the bullshit, Rosie. You walked away from SAMCRO years ago to chase bigger fish. It must've been a big fucking whale of a payday for you to come back now. The Club didn't hire you; neither did my mother. Who the fuck's holding your leash now?"

A tiny smirk tugs at Rosen's mouth as he leans back in his chair. "And if I don't tell you, are you going to fire me? Although, as you so astutely pointed out, I don't technically work for your Club, you mother or you. I guess you could always beat the shit out of me, but what'll that get you besides some temporary satisfaction?"

"Not that temporary," Jax snarls, a heartbeat away from shoving his fist into the asshole's smug face.

"Teller, believe me when I say this - I'm not out to screw you; actually, it's quite the opposite - the person who hired me, my real client, only wanted the best for you. And I'm committed to that." Rosen hands the documents back to him. "You can choose not to work with me anymore - that's your right, but you won't find anyone better…and I get paid either way."

Jax stares at the man he's known for most of his life; a man he's never been able to fucking stand but has always trusted when it came to helping him and SAMCRO. The asshole's right that Jax isn't going to find anyone better to help him navigate whatever shit the DA's office might throw in his path.

And, in truth, Rosen's the only lawyer he can trust with the shit he needs to do for his family. "Okay," he concedes. "But if you fuck with me, beating the shit out of you will be the nicest thing I'll do." Pulling another piece of paper out of his pocket, he slides it across the desk to Rosen. "How are you at family law?"

Rosen studies the instructions that Jax had written last night (before the Jack Daniels knocked him out) and nods. "Piece of cake. And I won't even charge you for it…except for the filing fees."

"You're a fucking peach, man. Call me when it's done." Rising out of his chair, Jax leans forward and extends a hand to his lawyer, who shakes it firmly. He's almost out the door when Rosen's voice stops him dead in his tracks.

"If you want to know who hired me…take some time to think about it, really think about it. Then you'll know."

* * *

Throughout the years, SAMCRO's done a lot of business with the Italians so Jax's familiar with the ruthless dons and vicious enforcers, but no one he's ever met would've prepared him for Marco DeNotti. Jax's not sure what he expected a guy who cleaned cash for the mob to look like but it wasn't the tiny, stick-figured man in an over-sized Chicago Bears jersey sitting alone at a long table covered by newspapers and magazines.

A huge smile spreads across the old man's face as he leaps out of his chair to greet Jax. "Bobby said you're Tara's husband. She talked about you A LOT," DeNotti gushes, clasping Jax's hand with both of his and pumping vigorously. "You're a lucky, lucky man."

Then as suddenly as it appeared, the man's smile and excitement vanish, his face crumpling with grief. "I heard what happened on the news." Motioning for Jax to sit down, DeNotti pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his eyes. "Who could have done such a thing? She was such a pretty girl. All she ever did was try to help people…She helped me with my arthritis. Even bought me this jersey, you see?" He pokes at it proudly. "We both used to live in Chicago, you know. Although not at the same time…I was born there; she went there for medical school. But you know that…" He dabs his eyes again. "Who could've done this?"

"We're looking into it," Jax replies simply, wondering how much time Tara spent alone with a goddamn Italian mobster for him to know so much about her. And evidently she did so without Bobby or Gemma knowing about it. "Look, the reason I'm here…"

"I know why you're here." The old man settles back in his chair, fixing his dark gaze on Jax. "I know what you found…"

After an hour spent with the mob's money man, Jax's head's spinning. On the surface, the old guy seems a little out his fucking mind - rambling back and forth about random topics - but Jax can tell the man's actually as sharp as a brand new switchblade. DeNotti may be known mostly for his creativity at cleaning cash, but apparently the old man's real talent lay in his ability to work the stock market like an ATM machine (legally, too, which was the real mindblower).

So in addition to laundering the cartel money for Tara, he'd invested some of it for her as well (under the radar to avert any attention from SAMCRO). He'd kept her investment profits in a blind brokerage account until she'd asked to cash it out for their family's move to Oregon, where she'd have the opportunity of a lifetime - neonatal specialist at one of the best medical practices in the country.

But of course, they never made it to Oregon. Jax grits his teeth, desperately trying not to get sucked in by the grief and guilt that'll be plaguing him for the rest of his life. Focusing on the old man's words, replaying them over in his head, he realizes there's something strange about the timeline. According to DeNotti, the day he gave Tara the cash was the last day he ever saw her; a couple of weeks later he'd read in his many newspapers that she'd been murdered.

When he and Tara had their fateful confrontation at the park, she'd been planning to take the DA's deal and go into WitPro. But why didn't she have the money with her? According to DeNotti, the cash's untraceable, she could've easily brought it with her; hell, she probably would've needed it since there's no way she would've been allowed to practice medicine. Yet all the cash and the savings account were still in the safe deposit box - and Rosen had the key.

And then suddenly the truth hits him with the force of an iron fist. _"If you want to know who hired me…take some time to think about it, really think about it. Then you'll know." _ Holy Shit. Holy Fucking Shit.

"You'll find who did this to her right?" Jax feels DeNotti's black eyes boring a hole into him, a chilling expression on the old man's face. "Do what needs to be done?"

Jax nods grimly, still reeling from his stunning realization; he needs to get the fuck out of there so he can process all the thoughts bombarding his brain. But before he leaves, he wants the answer to something that's been poking at him since meeting the man who's clearly more dangerous than he looks. "I guess I'm just a little surprised you didn't suspect me."

DeNotti chuckles and shakes his head. "Nah, Tara loved you, kid; lit up like sunshine every time she talked about you. I've never seen anything like it in my whole life. And I knew when I saw you that you were just as crazy about her. Which is a good thing because if I thought for a second that you might've done this…" The old man, pushes aside the pile of papers next to him to reveal a wicked looking dagger. "I would've cut your fucking heart out where you stood."

"I hear you, old man." Jax squeezes DeNotti's shoulder on his way out the door. "I hear you…"

* * *

"_This one's from Tara…and Tommy." His mom hands him a neatly wrapped box, shooting a surprised look at his little brother perched on Tara's lap._

"_Happy Birthday, Jax." Tara watches anxiously as he tears open the gift, squeezing Tommy's shoulder as the four-year-old grins proudly._

"_Wow! Holy shit…" Jax's eyes nearly fall out of his head at the sight of the scale model of his dad's Harley-Davidson FL Knucklehead housed in the small glass case. "Where'd you guys get this?"_

"_We made it!" Tommy pipes up, barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces up and down on Tara's lap._

"_Piney helped us find a model kit and we put it together for you," Tara explains, finger-combing Tommy's blond hair._

_Jax grins as he lifts the model out of the case and admires the perfect details; shit, she knows him well. If they'd given him just the kit, he would've loved it but most likely the parts would've stayed unassembled in the box; he's got more exciting things to do with his time. "I love it," he raves beaming at both his old friend and his little brother._

_He's not the only one who loves the gift; after he finishes opening all of his presents, Opie and a few other guys rush over to marvel at the perfectly constructed model – chattering about the day when they each can own a real Harley and be able to ride all over the country._

_It's the need for the bathroom that finally separates him from his prize, which he leaves in Opie's trusted hands. On his way back, he runs into Tara coming out of Tommy's bedroom; apparently all the excitement tired out his little brother. He talks her into going with him to get another piece of cake, but heading into the kitchen, they hear the spiteful voices._

"_I heard she ran around for months collecting cans like a homeless person to get the money for that stupid present…"  
_"_Well she should've used the cash to buy some new clothes. I swear she wore the same thing to school every day…"  
_"_Tara Knowles has never owned new clothes. Her mom bought everything at the Salvation Army…  
_"_Yeah, once I think I saw her wearing one of my old sweaters…"  
_"_Well, now that her mom's dead, she'll probably be searching dumpsters for cans and clothes…"_

_He's about to tell the nasty bitches to shut up and get the hell out of his house, when Tara charges through the kitchen door to fight her own battle. Green eyes blazing, she spears them with a look that would've made him squirm. "You know, if you bitches used your feeble brainpower on school instead of checking me out every day, then maybe you wouldn't have to cheat so much." Whirling around to Jax, she forces an apologetic smile. "I forgot I have to leave early. Please tell your mom that I said thank you, I had a great time."_

"_Tara wait!" he calls out as she marches out the door. Glaring at the three red-faced skanks, he makes a mental note where to put the family of spiders he and Opie discovered the other day before running out to chase after his friend. "Tara you don't have to go. I'll tell them to leave; can't stand those bitches anyway. Mom made me invite them." _

"_It's okay, Jax." She stops and smiles at him - which always, always makes his stomach flip-flop and his heart beat faster. "It's almost time for my dad to get home from work; I have to make dinner."_

_He nods reluctantly, wishing he could talk her into staying, but he doesn't want to get her in trouble with Old Man Knowles (who's a total asshole). "Thanks for the Harley model, it's the best present I got today." He swallows hard as her smile nearly blinds him. "I know you usually don't like going to these things, but I'm really glad you were here." For years, Tara's avoided going to birthday parties - even for her pal, David Hale - to the point most of their classmates stopped inviting her._

_But this year, she'd surprised him when she said she'd be at his party - unlike his dad, who's still in Ireland doing things more important than celebrating Jax's birthday. The sting of that disappointment must've shown up on his face because Tara surprises him again by pulling him into a bear hug. "Thanks, Jax," she whispers in his ear. He doesn't know how long he lets her hug him (and he hugs her back), but when she finally pulls away, it's actually hard to let go._

"_I'm sure he wishes he was here, too." She squeezes his hand and beams him one last smile before turning to walk home._

The scale model of his dad's Harley that Tara gave him for his birthday still sits in its original case - perched on the dresser in his childhood bedroom at Gemma's house; the perfect gift from the little girl who knew how much his dad's constant absences had devastated him.

And even when Tara planned to disappear into WitPro with the boys, she'd left behind enough cash for him to start fresh once he got out of prison. Provided he even went to prison…Not long after Tara got out of Stockton, he'd overheard Lowen telling her about Rosen's successful new practice, how he's not lost a case in years. He doesn't know how or when Tara managed to do it, but somehow when he needed it most, he's got one of the state's most successful criminal lawyer on his side.

It's ironic that, given all the promises he'd made to take care of her, she's always been the one who's taken care of him - ever since they were little kids. Even now.

* * *

Sitting on his bed, Jax open the drawer to his nightstand and pulls out a rectangle redwood case he'd found in Tara's bags last night; it's a smaller version of the redwood strongbox where he'd stored hundreds of photos of her for years. After gulping down another long swig of burning whiskey, he opens the box - unaware that he's holding his breath until his lungs start to hurt.

The first velvet lined layer contains all the necklaces that he'd given her throughout the years; he finds the one he's looking for - the golden circle pendant he'd bought her when they got back together not long after she returned to Charming. He traces the warm gold metal with his thumb, remembering the beautiful night he'd given it to his beautiful girl - then his eyes catch the gleam of another bright pendant he must've overlooked last night in his drunken stupor. Missing its chain, the small platinum disc might've been easy to overlook, but Jax recognizes the necklace immediately even though it's been well over a decade since he saw it last.

"_It's beautiful, Baby. I absolutely love it." He'd been searching the craft booths in Eureka for something special to give her when he saw the perfect necklace – simple yet incomparable, just like Tara. It cost him nearly every dime he made on the run plus all the weed he'd had on him, but at least the guy had thrown in the engraving. _

_Pulling out the silver chain, tears well in her eyes when she reads the inscriptions on the flat platinum disk. "Together," she whispers reading the engraving while he strokes her hair. "We're meant to be together, Babe." He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "That's what we've always said."_

_Nodding, she flips the disk around. "JT loves TKT?" She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Tara Knowles Teller," he explains, lifting her hand to kiss her palm. "I told you that I'm going to marry you one day. That's a promise." Taking the necklace from her, he drapes it around her neck and locks the clasp._

The day she left Charming for college, she'd given him the gold bullet necklace that he's almost never removed; it'd been his link to her. He loves knowing that she'd kept the necklace he'd given her in a desperate attempt to keep her from leaving Charming, from leaving him. Lifting the pendant to his lips, he presses a soft kiss to the cool disc before slipping it into his shirt pocket with the golden circle pendant.

The contents of the box's second layer are equally devastating: a thick stack of opened mail held together with one of her hair bands - all of them sent from Stockton State Penitentiary; she'd kept all the letters he'd written to her during his fourteen months inside. Jax downs another long gulp of whiskey as he stares at the pile. There's no fucking way he can bear to read the words of his younger self gushing hopeful promises to Tara about the beautiful life he'd planned to give her and their family. Not now, probably not ever.

He shoves the box back into the drawer and tosses the half-empty bottle of Jack into the trashcan, not caring that it splashes whiskey on to the floor. Rising, he takes a deep breath, pats his pocket nestling her necklaces and walks out the door. It's time to say goodbye.


	8. Things That'll Keep You Whole

**AN: Warning, this is a bit angsty. I didn't watch S7, but I heard that KS didn't write much about Jax mourning Tara. If so, that SUCKS. Not in my world…**

**Special thanks to VDStar's "Final Embrace" for one of the ideas.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: THINGS THAT'LL KEEP YOU WHOLE**

"_So what do you want to talk about…ma'am?"_

_Jarry studies the young biker sitting across from her in the booth; she can sense the anxiety he's desperately trying to hide under that casual fuck-you attitude so common with all these career criminal types. Interesting._

"_Current events." Flashing him a genial smile, she glances around the ice cream parlor which - until she and Cane arrived - had been empty save for Juice and some short, balding guy with weird-ass fake fingers. Casually, she asks him about his whereabouts on the date and approximate time Eli and Dr. Knowles were killed; if he's got nothing to do with it, then the date might not even register with him._

_However, the ever-so-slight widening of his eyes speaks volumes; he knows exactly what she's talking about. Of course, it's likely that everyone in the MC has that date tattooed in their heads; Dr. Tara Knowles may not have worn a patch or a cut, but she'd been involved with SAMCRO since high school when she hooked up with the future Biker King._

"_Do you really think I had anything to do with killing Tara and that cop?" Juice laughs incredulously. "You're fucking out of your mind, lady." He shakes his head, smiling coldly. "I was with a friend."_

"_Everyone always is…" Jarry pushes a small notepad and pen at him. "Do me a favor, write down the name of your 'friend' and where you were together. It's not that we don't trust you…Well, you know the drill. After all, this isn't your first dance with us law enforcement types."_

_Juice glares at them before scribbling on the paper and shoving the pad back at her. "Are we done?" If looks could kill…_

"_Yes. And thank you." Jarry's smile broadens; she'd noticed the slight tremble to his hand as he wrote down what was probably a big fucking lie. "We'll see you soon, Juan Carlos."_

_Cane's eyes follow their agitated suspect as he slams out the door. "Well that was interesting." He looks down at the paper, trying to read the nearly illegible scrawl upside down._

"_To say the least…" Jarry flips the note pad around so her deputy can see what Juice had written. Sliding out of the booth, she pockets the notepad. "Let's go. I have a feeling that the next meet's going to be a mother…."_

* * *

After Opie died, there was no doubt how they would honor the Brother they loved, the Brother who sacrificed himself for SAMCRO: a wake at the Clubhouse that'd been his second home since childhood, a funeral procession befitting a long-time Member and son of one of the First Nine and a simple service at the cemetery where they laid him to rest next to his beloved Donna. And all throughout, there'd been dozens of mourners - Brothers, family, friends - to say goodbye. Despite the gut-wrenching pain of that day, Jax felt it'd been the perfect send-off for his best friend; one that he knew Opie would've appreciated.

Saying goodbye to Tara, however, would be something else entirely. His quiet, private Tara wouldn't have wanted the pomp and ceremony of the SAMCRO funerals they'd attended for Donna, Sack, Luanne, Kozik and Opie - much less the attention garnered by a procession of all the different charters wearing their Sons of Anarchy cuts. No, his beautiful girl would've hated all that. Which is just as well; he's never liked sharing her, and today's no exception.

Skeeter ushers him into a small receiving room that's practically empty except for a few chairs and a long, dark wood cask atop a wheeled gurney. "Just let me know…uh…when you're ready." Pausing in the doorway, Skeeter opens his mouth to say something else only to clam up when Jax shakes his head and turns to the cask. The gravedigger must've correctly understood his dismissal as Jax hears the door softly click shut, leaving him alone with her.

Over the years, he's watched Tara sleep hundreds of times – always marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the perfection of her features. Most times she slept peacefully, looking so blissfully young and carefree; then there were times she'd be fitful and restless, her beautiful face crumpling with worry or fear. He'd always hated seeing her like that, knowing firsthand how torturous nightmares could be; so he'd wake her from those bad dreams and fuck her thoroughly until she'd fall asleep smiling, nestled against him. Now as Jax watches her sleep in permanent serenity, he wishes more than any goddamn thing for that perfect brow to wrinkle or those pink lips to frown.

"Hi, Babe." His fingers brush her pale, cold cheek. "You look beautiful." His eyes drink in the sight of her wearing "their" dress, which he dropped off to Skeeter earlier this morning; the dark green silk contrasting and complementing her porcelain skin. "But then you always do. I brought you something…" He pulls the gold necklace from his pocket and carefully threads it around her neck before locking the clasp.

Jax lifts her left hand and presses kisses to her engagement and wedding rings; Skeeter had asked him if he'd wanted Tara's rings and, for a brief moment, he'd considered keeping them for Abel and Thomas. But then he quickly changed his mind; no one else should ever wear her rings - especially the engagement ring that seemed expressly made for her.

Clasping her hand, he almost expects her to lace her fingers through his like she's done since they were little kids; flinching slightly when she doesn't. "I'm sorry I didn't bring the boys, but I didn't think they'd understand all this. They're not doing too good, Tara. They really miss you…maybe almost as much as I do." He strokes her palm with his thumb reassuringly. "But don't worry, Babe. They'll be fine…I have it all planned. We're all getting out of here soon. All of us."

He must've stayed there talking to her, touching her much longer than expected because he's startled by the soft knock and Skeeter's voice at the door. "Jax…uh…it's ready. We got to do this."

"Okay," he croaks hoarsely, his eyes never leaving Tara's face. "Give us a minute."

For the last time, he savors the sight of his wife's breathtaking face while caressing her cheek, her shoulder, her arm. "It's time, Babe," he whispers bending down to kiss her rosy lips, feeling his hard-fought composure cracking apart. "I love you, Tara. I love you so much."

Jax swipes at the wetness coating his cheeks before clutching her hand once again; his gaze drifting to the gold circle pendant resting on her chest. Tracing the cool metal with his finger, he presses one more kiss to her lips. "Full circle, Babe. We'll be together soon."

* * *

"_Ice cream's on me, Teller."_

_Like nearly every day this week, he'd come to the cemetery to sit by his dad's grave stone; it's the only place he's been able to find peace since JT died. And he sure as fuck could use some peace right now, having just caught his mom having sex with Clay - just a week after they'd put his dad into the ground. Goddamn, he hates them both so much right now, but there's nothing he can fucking do except wallow in his grief and rage._

_But then he'd run into Tara, who'd gone there to put flowers on her mom's grave - only to give them to JT and Tommy. _

_Determined to cheer him up somewhat, she drags (ok, not really drags) him to the ice cream parlor to spend some of her allowance (i.e., money she steals from her dad to buy groceries) on "The Earthquake," a ridiculously awesome pile of ice cream scoops topped with chocolate, caramel, nuts, cherries and whipped cream._

"_I'm amazed you can eat this, Tara." The waitress lowers the heavy platter to the table and shakes her head, no doubt wondering how someone so small could eat so much. Jax's wondering that himself; he's never seen her order more than an ice cream cone when they'd come here in the past._

_Jax digs into the pile, shoveling a chocolate-caramel-pecan-whipped cream spoonful into his mouth. "Holy shit, that's good."_

_Tara smiles at the waitress, thanking her again before she walks away. "I was hoping you'd like it. They call it "The Earthquake" because it rocks your world." Closing her eyes, she moans in delight as she savors her ice cream then licks the caramel sauce off her spoon._

_Apparently his hormones don't give a shit about the sadness enveloping the rest of him as his dick surges to life while he ogles her like drooling dumbfuck; the ice cream's fucking nothing compared to Tara Knowles when it comes to rocking his world. Ever since last summer when he realized she had the most spectacularly fuckable body he'd ever seen, he's been trying to keep his crazy attraction to her under control. It's one thing to have her star in his x-rated dreams every night or to jerk off to the memory of her in that audacious bikini, but quite another to let her or anyone else know that he feels more for her than just friendship. Tara's been through too much shit in her life, she deserves a nice guy for a boyfriend - and he's definitely not boyfriend material. Fuck no._

"_So I take it that you've had this stuff this before." He grins at the whip cream on her nose as she eagerly digs back into the ice cream pile._

_Nodding, she dips her spoon into more caramel sauce. "Sometimes Hale and I come here after school to do our homework or study for tests. We've ordered this a couple of times after a big exam or particularly hideous project."_

_Jax's grin disappears as he feels his blood boil despite the cold ice cream in his mouth. Since they were little kids, Hale's always had a thing for Tara; shit, back in grade school, he and Opie used to laugh their asses off at the sight of Hale following her around like a pathetic, lovesick puppy. But somehow it's not so goddamn funny anymore. "Don't tell me you're going out with that shithead." _

_Her eyes widen, the spoon stopping midway to her mouth. "You mean like dating?" She shakes her head vehemently. "No, we're just friends. I've known him since I was five; it'd be weird…And FYI, David's not a shithead. If you actually tried to get to know him, you might actually like him."_

"_I do know him. I've known him as long as you have. And he's a total fucking shithead." Jax's temper eases then shoots back up within a matter of seconds. Although it's a relief to know that she's not hooking up with Hale, he's fucking annoyed that she thinks it's weird to date someone she's known since kindergarten. She's known HIM longer than that. Although, he may not want to tie himself down to one girl, he goddamn hates the thought that this one girl wouldn't consider going out with him anyway._

_Tara looks away - like she always does when gathering her thoughts - only to swivel back to him, green eyes snapping. She must've caught their image in a mirror because she starts wiping her nose with a napkin. "Some friend you are, Teller. How long were you going to let me sit here with whip cream on my face?"_

_He smirks at her, laughing when she wrinkles her nose and throws a walnut at him. And so for a few hours that afternoon he's happy again - forgetting the pain of his dad's death, forgetting that his mom's banging one of his dad's friends, forgetting everything except this beautiful girl with sparkling green eyes, a musical giggle and that dazzling smile._

* * *

In his lifetime full of horrible, heartrending moments - some of the worst have crushed him in this very room.

The last time, he'd charged in here looking for Opie - only to be painfully blindsided by the wrenching news of Piney's death; Jax'll never forget the broken anguish on his best friend's face as he clutched his father's cut and watched the flames consume Piney's cardboard cask.

However, as much as he loved Piney, the grief he'd felt that day fucking pales in comparison to the intense, piercing pain lashing at every inch of him as he stares helplessly at those flames engulfing the love of his life. He'd helped Skeeter slide the wooden box carrying Tara into the chamber, only to drop to his knees once the fire roared to life. This time he doesn't bother to wipe away the tears, letting them pour down his face as he squeezes the small platinum disk that had promised their beautiful future in his shaking hand.

* * *

_He can't stand to be in the house for another fucking minute. His dad's locked in his study again, probably drinking himself unconscious like he did last night; it's just as well because the times they've seen JT in the past couple of days, he's had nothing to say to anyone. Although as much as that sucks, his mom's worse - constantly hovering over him like he's some fucking breakable piece of glass; it's getting to the point where he can't turn around without her smothering the shit out of him. But the absolute worst…Jax swallows hard and stares at his little brother's closed bedroom door, knowing he'll never again hear Tommy laugh or chatter away about some little kid thing. Shit, he's got to get the hell out of here._

_Jumping on his bike, he pedals furiously to Opie's house only to remember when no one answers the Winston's front door that it's a weekday; Opie's at school and Piney and Mary are at TM helping out while JT and Gemma mourn at home. Undeterred, Jax heads to their backyard; he can hang out there until he's ready to go home. If ever._

"_Jax, is that you?" He whirls around to spot Tara sitting on a blanket in the middle of her backyard, just like she and Tommy used to do. As he walks towards her, bile rises in his throat at the sight of his battered friend. Opie'd told him that he and Piney had to take Tara to the hospital the other night; apparently Old Man Knowles roughed her up pretty bad, to the point Piney had to knock him out to make him stop. All because Tara stole one of her dad's model cars to give to Tommy right before he died._

"_Are you okay? I thought you were still in the hospital." Jax plops down on the blanket next to her, staring in horror at the swollen purple bruises on her face and neck and arms not to mention the thick cast covering the lower portion of her left arm and pillow pressed to her stomach. "Opie told me what happened. I'm sorry this happened to you." Sorry your old man's a goddamn son-of-a-bitch._

_She shakes her head then winces slightly. "I'm fine. Dad checked me out yesterday; he said I could rest at home for free. How are you?" Her good hand reaches out to clasp his. "I'm really sorry about Tommy, Jax." She squeezes his hand before dropping it to swipe at the tears seeping out of her swollen eyes. "I can't believe he's gone. I miss him so much."_

"_Me too." Jax wipes his own eyes; then to distract himself so he doesn't cry in front of her, he checks out all the stuff piled on the blanket next to her: a box of Goldfish crackers, prescription pills, bottled water and a kitchen timer. "What's the timer for?"_

_Blinking at the abrupt change of subject, Tara glances at the timer as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, I have a concussion. If I get sleepy, I have to turn in on to make sure I wake up."_

_Jax can't help but shudder as fear seeps into his brain; she can't possibly mean that she could go to sleep and never wake up…That can't happen, that can't fucking happen; he can't lose anyone else he cares about._

_Alarm must've been spread all over his face because she reaches out to touch his arm. "It's okay, Jax. I've been through this before, I know what to do." She manages to curve her swollen lips into a smile._

_His tense shoulders relax somewhat, although he still thinks it's fucking sad that a twelve-year-old girl would've suffered enough concussions to know how to take care of them. Then a horrifying realization washes over him. "All those times you said you fell off your bike or tripped and fell…It was your dad, wasn't it? He hurt you." The boiling fury that swamped him when he first heard about what happened to her returns with a vengeance. "Fuck it, Tara, he can't get away with this…Unser needs to lock him up so he can't hurt you anymore." Or someone needs to shoot the prick dead._

"_No!" She tightens her grip on his arm. "No, Jax. Dad told me that he's really sorry and promised he won't hit me anymore. You can't tell anyone…They'll put me in the system, and I…I can't leave. Everything I have is here. Please, Jax… Please don't say anything."_

_Torn, he stares at her bruised and swollen face. He doesn't want anyone taking her away either, but the thought of her living in that house where that bastard could hurt again makes him sick with rage and fear. "What about Piney and Mary? What'd they say?"_

"_Piney told the hospital that I was in a car accident. He doesn't want me in the system either. But he made me promise to tell him if Dad ever hurt me again. Dad's scared of Piney now…So please, Jax…swear you won't say anything."_

_He nods slowly, reluctantly. "Okay, but you have to tell Piney - and me - if that asshole ever lays a hand on you again. Promise right now, Tara." Once she does, he picks up her hand and squeezes it. "Tommy wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Me either."_

_At the mention of his little brother's name, they both grow quiet; remembering the sweet little kid he was. Gazing into the Winston's yard, grief overwhelms him again knowing he'll never again let his little brother chase him around that backyard or sit on this blanket and watch Tommy snuggle next to Tara while she read him all this favorite stories._

"_Jax, can you do me a favor?" He feels something nudge his arm and looks down at a battered paperback copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows." Glancing at Tara, he can't help the tiny smile that tugs at his lips. She loves this book, must've read it a million times; he'll never forget how she told him all about it years ago, lying next to him in the dark on the cold cave floor as they waited to be rescued. "I started reading it to Tommy, but we didn't get very far before…I'd like to finish it, but I'm having a hard time seeing the words."_

_Now it dawns on him why Tommy had started begging their parents for a dog (Jax'd done the same thing after the cave - although he'd been in too much deep shit with his parents to get anything but grounded), only to get shot down because his mom doesn't like dogs. Picking up the book, he pulls out the bookmark and tosses it to the ground. "Sure…but let's start at the beginning. I'd like to read the actual thing after hearing so much about it."_

_So for that day and many days after while they skipped school to heal, he'd go to her house and they'd read that book or another book or watch movies or play video games. And in those hours spent with her, he's a happy kid again - forgetting how much he misses his little brother, forgetting that his parents are barely talking, forgetting everything but how great it feels when she smiles at him._

* * *

Like they planned, Nero's waiting for him - leaning against his truck as Jax rides into the cemetery parking lot and parks his bike. He'd barely climbed off before the older man pulls him into a bear hug, which Jax returns - grateful for the silent greeting; after the last few hours, he's fucking wrecked.

"I brought what you wanted," Nero tells him then points his flashlight at a small burlap bag laying on the ground next to their feet. Jax nods his thanks and pats is friend's shoulder as they watch Skeeter arrive and emerge from his van.

"Sure you want to do this?" Skeeter asks him for what must be the hundredth time since Jax approached him with his plan. "Okay, okay…" Throwing up his hands when Jax shoots him a murderous glare, Skeeter opens the van door and pulls out the wooden urn that Jax'd chosen specifically.

"_That one." He points at the large redwood urn on display at the funeral home._

"_But Jax, that's a companion urn," Skeeter informs him. "It's for commingling the ashes of two people."_

_He runs his hand across the smooth wood, wanting to make sure it's worthy of her. "Does that have to happen at the same time?" As Skeeter shakes his head, Jax reaches into his pocket and curls his fingers around the small platinum disk. "Then it's perfect."_

Taking the urn, Jax watches as Nero picks up the burlap bag, then sets out to follow Skeeter through the dark graveyard until they arrive at the selected spot. The gravedigger flashes Jax one more skeptical look before he plunges his shovel into the ground. Because they're burying an urn - temporarily - he doesn't have to dig very deep.

"Okay, we can put it in now." Skeeter throws the shovel to the ground and reaches out for the box.

"I'll do it." Jax brushes past him, now carrying both the urn and the burlap bag he'd taken from Nero. "Give me a minute," he tells both men, who immediately walk a few feet away but continue to shine their flashlights so that Jax can see what he's doing.

Sitting down on the ground next to the freshly dug hole, he cradles the urn in his arms - beyond reluctant to leave it here. "I have to go now, Babe. But I promise, I'll be back for you soon; then you, me and the boys can get the hell out of here. In the meantime, I'm going to leave you in good hands…I love you, Tara." He presses a kiss to the smooth wood then gently lowers the urn into the hole.

Once again, he swipes the wetness from his cheeks before picking up the shovel and filling the hole most of the way. Opening the burlap bag, he pulls out the miniature rosebush and plants it above where he'd buried the urn. "You may not know this, Babe. But there's no such thing as a red fern. I guess it's just a legend we learned from our book. I hope red roses will do for now." He pats the ground, his fingers smoothing the cold soil. "Good night, Babe."

Rising, he turns and faces the grave marker.

_Thomas Wayne Teller_

"Take care of our girl, buddy. But don't forget…she's mine."

* * *

"Thanks again for doing this, both of you." Jax breaks the silence as they walk back to the parking lot. "If anything happens to me, you know where she is. Where I'll need to be. And where we need to go. I already talked to Charlie…Maybe you think I'm crazy, but…"

He can't see it, but he can feel Nero shaking his head. "No, Mano…I get it." He pats Jax's shoulder. "I get it."

"Me, too," Skeeter pipes in. "That's why I thought…It's really weird, but when I picked Tara up at the ME's lab, I thought I saw you with her."

Jax stops in his tracks and aims his flashlight at the burly man. "What did you say?" Coldness creeps down his spine; something tells him he might know what Skeeter saw.

"I walked into the lab – the ME said she was ready to go – and I saw a blond guy kissing her hands, then her face. Seriously man, I thought it was you…except, now I think about it, your hair's a lot longer than when I saw you last and…do you even own a tweed jacket?"

That son-of-a-bitch, that son-of-a-fucking-bitch; Jax grits his teeth and clenches his fists; he's going to murder that goddamn prick. Nick Reese's a fucking dead man. Pulling out his cel phone, he dials Bobby. "Get Juice to find Reese's home address. Fucking now."


	9. Rage Can Feel That Way

**Chapter 8: RAGE CAN FEEL THAT WAY**

"_I need to talk to you. I'll be at the station in ten minutes."_

"_Hello to you too, Boss." Jarry greets the dial tone after her caller hangs up abruptly. Shoving her phone into her jacket pocket, she turns to Cane. "Change of plans…I've been summoned back to the station." Shit._

_Pulling a U-turn, Cane glances at her. "Everything okay with the Big Man?"_

_She looks out the window and sighs. "Who the hell knows? I'm sure he wants an update. And I have shit to tell him. All of the bad guys we talked to had alibis…except for Alvarez. But I think he was just being an asshole - daring me to waste our time checking him out. No, I think if Alvarez was involved, he'd have some bullshit story ready for us." She flips open the folder of leads that they'd reviewed earlier. "And we haven't had enough time to follow-up on some these leads…This one from Stockton's pretty interesting, too." _

"_What about Juice?"_

_Shaking her head, she closes the file. "No, that's just a hunch that I'm following. Something feels off to me about the way Eli handled that case…It's probably nothing. Keep it under your hat for now." Although Reese's derailed them for now, sometime soon they'll confirm Juice's alibi with Gemma Teller-Morrow._

_At the station, Jarry finds Reese sitting in her office reading emails on his phone. He tells her that he has to head up to San Francisco for a couple of days then demands an update on the case. She gives him the rundown on all their talks with the bad guys from Roosevelt's jacket, deliberately omitting Juice for now. Then she opens the folder of leads that the deputies had compiled from all their interviews._

"_Patterson doesn't think Teller murdered his wife." She extracts one report from the pile. "But just a couple of days before her death, someone saw them arguing - pretty heatedly - outside of a whorehouse here in Stockton; a whorehouse that's partially owned by Jackson Teller. And get this…" She points to a notation written in caps. "Tara pulled a gun on him." _

_Jarry didn't think Reese's blue eyes could grow any colder; shit, she actually fucking shivers. "Look, Cane and I still need to follow-up on this. Talk to the madam and find out what husband and wife might've been fighting about. We should have that ready by the time you're back."_

"_No." Reese rises to his feet and heads for the door. "Grab Cane, we're going now."_

* * *

Jax storms into Scoops, cold rage in his eyes and bloody fucking murder in his heart. "Where the fuck is that address?" He stalks over to the table where Bobby, Chibs, Tig and Happy hover around Juice - who'd practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of Jax's voice.

It's been twenty minutes since he'd demanded Nick Reese's home address; the Club's so-called computer genius could track down fucking Big Foot in twenty minutes - what's the goddamn holdup with this? Bobby intercepts him as he's about to rip off Juice's fucking head. "Calm down, Brother."

_Calm down? _ How the fuck does he do that with what he just learned? Jax'd flamed his own temper by interrogating Skeeter about every fucking thing that the grave digger saw earlier at the ME's lab: a tall, blond man bending over Tara - touching and kissing her like he had every goddamn right in the world. Skeeter had claimed over and over that he'd honestly thought it'd been Jax (with short hair and a fucking tweed jacket!) so he'd backed out the lab door unseen; hiding out in the hallway until the guy left.

"I want that address," Jax grits out through his clenched teeth. "NOW."

Bobby tightens his restraining grip as Chibs and Tig flank him, blocking Jax's path to Juice. "You can't do this, Jax. You can't just break into the home of the Chief Deputy Attorney General without a plan. Not with the DA looking for any excuse to lock you up. You could wind up in Stockton for the next ten - no, make that twenty years."

Jax shakes his head, his face twisting in a snarl. "I'm not just going to break into the guy's place. I'm going to kill that goddamn son-of-a-bitch…" Looking past his Brothers, he scowls murderously at Juice. "You told me Reese had no connection to Tara. That was a goddamn lie. Another fucking, goddamn lie."

Juice's eyes widen in panic. "It wasn't a lie! There's nothing that connects them…until this case, I don't think the guy's ever been to Charming. And I just found out that he'd been working in Washington, DC for most of the year. Just got back. Really, Jax, you got to believe me that there's nothing that ties him to Tara, nothing..." Juice types franticly, pulling up the different websites he'd referenced on Reese and points the laptop screen at Jax. "He lives in Sacramento now, but before that, I told you he's from San Francisco, went to law school at Stanford, college in San Diego…"

"What did you say?" Jax hisses, stiffening as every ounce of blood in his body chills to ice. He glares at Nick Reese's profile photo smirking at him from Juice's laptop, wanting to hurl the goddamn thing out the window - except he can't seem to fucking move.

"San Diego…He went to college at UCSD." Juice's bewildered gaze bounces from Chibs to Happy to Tig to Bobby as if hoping one of them can explain the grim looks on all their faces. "What does that have to do with Tara? I thought she went to college in Chicago…"

Tig leans closer to the laptop, peering at the photo of Reese on the monitor before looking up to stare at Jax. "Wow, the guy kind of looks like you. Interesting. Seems like Little Miss College Tara found your twin."

Jax shoots Tig a glare that promises death then pushes past his Brothers to loom menacingly over Juice - his hand extended; if he doesn't get Reese's address in the next second, that hand's going to snap the fucking shitbag's neck.

Glancing nervously at Chibs - who nods slowly, reluctantly - Juice pulls a strip of paper from under his laptop and drops it into Jax's waiting hand.

Jax curls his fingers around the paper, nodding at Happy as he stalks towards the door. "Hap, I need you to come with me." Although no one's better at killing than SAMCRO's Sargent-at-Arms, Jax's saving the pleasure of ending Nick Reese for himself - but he does need Happy's skills at getting into Reese's house undetected.

They're barely out the door, strapping on their helmets when Bobby, Chibs and Tig come charging outside. "You're not going anywhere without us." Tig tells him, zipping up his black hoodie before getting on his bike. "I told you that we'd hunt down Tara's killer together. And if you think this guy…"

Jax stares at his Brothers then shakes his head. "No, Reese didn't kill Tara." He looks down at the paper and memorizes the address before shoving it into his pocket. "If I'm right, the prick tried to marry her." Gunning the Harley's engine, he speeds off leaving the others with little choice except to follow.

* * *

"_You've always been a whole can of nuts when it comes to Tara…" _Opie must've accused him of that at least a million times since high school, and yeah, maybe he'd been a little possessive and a little over-protective - okay, more than a little - but Tara's his girl. Always been HIS girl. Speeding past the sign that welcomes them into Sacramento city limits, Jax clenches his teeth as he flashes back to that painful exchange with Kozik a few years after Tara had left for college - a memory that'd fucked with his mind for years.

_Kozik had stopped by the Clubhouse for a couple of days on his way back to Tacoma after visiting his brother in San Diego. Sitting next to Jax at the bar, he casually mentions bumping into Tara at a bar in LaJolla. Jax stiffens, slams yet another shot of whiskey and faces Kozik with a mix of both anticipation and dread. He's not seen or heard anything about Tara since the day she left Charming; they'd agreed that a clean break would be necessary for either of them to survive life without the other. Although, for Jax, there's been nothing clean about the fucking mess that his life's been since that break._

_Shrugging, he feigns disinterest, not wanting Kozik to see a pathetic pussy desperate for news about his ex. Apparently he fails miserably as Kozik grins broadly and smacks him on the back. Then remembering his Brother's not-so-subtle admiration for Tara, Jax narrows his eyes; if that asshole tried anything with her… Correctly interpreting Jax's expression once again, Kozik laughs and shakes his head. But that initial reassurance gets blown to hell with the bombshells that Kozik does drop. She's graduating early and moving to Chicago for med school, he informs Jax matter-of-factly._

_Pouring himself another shot, Jax feels yet something else inside of him die. Every day over the past three years, he's held out the hope that she'd come back. That she'd show up one day and tell him that she's done with college, that no future of higher education could compare to one that they could have together. But as each day with no Tara passed, he sank deeper into depression - medicating with more booze, more weed and more sex with the endless string of nameless, faceless women who weren't Tara. At least not Tara initially; once he'd start fucking them, he'd close his eyes and see her, feel her soft skin, hear her gasping his name and he'd come – sometimes screaming her name. And if anyone in that nameless, faceless parade of pussy had a problem with that, well tough shit._

_But the devastating fact she's moving even further away from him is nothing compared to the last bomb that Kozik lets fall._

_"She was planning on going to Stanford, but then…" Kozik hesitates and stares at him hard, as if trying to decide whether Jax can handle the news without losing his shit._

_"Just say it," Jax snaps. He's not some fucking delicate piece of glass that'll shatter with too much pressure. Tossing back the shot, he welcomes the whiskey's sharp burn, desperate for the numbness that he knows all the shots he's had and intends to have will bring eventually._

_Eyeing him warily, Kozik decides to continue. "Apparently, she had a bad break up with her boyfriend; they'd planned to go to Stanford together. She turned down his marriage proposal and didn't feel comfortable going there with him…"_

Although Jax'd been fucking relieved that Tara hadn't wanted to marry her prick boyfriend, it'd destroyed him to know that she'd managed to move on - found someone else to replace him, found a relationship serious enough for the guy to expect marriage. That night he'd drowned himself in so much whiskey and weed that he was still drunk and high the next day when the sheriff's deputies pulled him over during a run - with enough illegal handguns to send him to Stockton for three years.

But the fall-out from Kozik's bombshells didn't end with Jax's first felony conviction and prison sentence; desperate to prove to himself that he could move on as well - that he could find someone to replace her like she'd replaced him - once out of Stockton, he'd fucked his way through northern California, Nevada and the Pacific Northwest searching for even the slightest twinge of the same pleasure, the same soul-deep connection that he'd felt with Tara. But he never found it - not even close; so he'd settled on the first croweater who didn't bore him or make him sick within hours of knowing her. And it didn't hurt that Gemma actually liked Wendy at first (saving him the effort of playing referee); probably because his mom knew Wendy could never distract him away from SAMCRO like Tara did nearly every day they were together. But marrying Wendy - like getting on a bike loaded with guns when he could barely see straight - had been a goddamn mistake. Two big goddamn mistakes he'd made because he couldn't fucking deal with the thought of Tara loving someone that wasn't him.

Arriving at the address Juice had given them, Jax's not surprised that Reese lives in partial seclusion atop a short, tree-covered hill next to the Sacramento River. Despite all that man-of-the-people-career-politician bullshit, the state's golden boy's definitely not what he seems and probably needs to hide out so no one can see how fucked-up he really is.

They park their bikes at the base of the hill in a dense copse of trees, then hike the rest of the way to the house in total silence; they can't risk making any noises that could alert Reese or his distant neighbors - which works perfectly fine for Jax, he's in no fucking mood to answer the questions he'd seen on his Brother's faces. Fortunately, it's a brightly lit night for 3am so they don't need flashlights until it's time for Happy to break open the back door then find and disable the alarm. Holy shit, it never fails to amaze him (and scare him a little) how easily the trained killer can break into even the most secure homes.

Pulling out his gun, Jax motions for Happy and Tig to scope out the ground floor while the rest of them head upstairs to what he assumes are the bedrooms. However, it doesn't take them long to realize that the house's empty - apparently it's Reese's lucky night, he gets to live one more fucking day.

"Jackie, you need to take a look at this…" Standing in the master bedroom's walk-in closet, Jax ignores Chibs as his eyes scour every inch of the immaculately organized space in case Reese had scurried in here to hide like a fucking rodent. "Seriously, Brother, you need to fucking get in here."

Stalking back into Reese's bedroom, he frowns at the sight of Chibs and Bobby poring over a slender black leather bound book. "Holy shit, Jackie…" Chibs shakes his head disbelievingly as he thrusts the book at Jax. "Holy shit…"

He opens the book, which turns out to be a photo album - although no fucking ordinary photo album he realizes as his knees buckle and his jaw nearly hits the floor. Plopping down on the armchair, he grips the leather cover tightly as his eyes greedily absorb the images before him; images of Tara - so young, so happy, so fucking beautiful he can barely breathe as he flips through the pages.

"Jax, we should go." Bobby's voice breaks through the roaring in his head. "The sun will be up soon, and we can't get seen leaving here." Nodding mutely, Jax rises, clutching the book against his chest as he strides towards the door.

"Wait, Jackie…You can't take that with you." Chibs blocks his exit, shaking his head. "Reese will know someone was here. And since that'll be the only thing missin' - he'll know exactly who was here."

Jax tucks the album into his jeans then covers it with his hoodie. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

_Christ, she's beautiful. He's thought so for a while now and must've told her a dozen times last night, but up close like this…he's never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life than Tara Knowles. And that includes his dad's Harley and the brand new Dyna that Otto bought to replace his dying Fat Boy. As he watches her sleep nestled against him, he can't help but soak up the little things that he might've noticed before but never fully appreciated until now - like the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, the creamy smoothness of her pale cheeks, the thick black lashes that might be the longest (real ones) he'd ever seen._

_It'd been a night of firsts for the both of them. The first night he's spent with a girl without having actual sex and the first night she's spent with a guy…ever (which is a fucking good thing because he'd want to kill anyone who might've gotten this close to her). And it's their first night together. After watching her make out with her asshole boyfriend at the party last night, he'd fucking snapped and was about to beat the fucker to shit until Opie stopped him. Jax realized then that unless he finally admitted his real feelings about Tara - to himself and to her - he could lose her permanently to that asshole or some other douchebag down the road._

_It'd been a huge risk coming over to her house late last night and telling her how he felt: how he wanted to be much more than friends, how he'd be willing to wait as long as it took to be with her - because if she didn't feel the same way, he'd lose one of his oldest and dearest friends. But the powers in the universe rewarded him generously for taking that risk; she'd welcomed this new turn in their relationship, welcomed his arms around her and his mouth on hers, welcomed him to spend the night (although she was very clear that she's not ready for sex yet)._

_But despite the fact they didn't have sex or even get all-the-way naked, it'd been the best, most amazing night of his life. Holy fuck, Tara Knowles could kiss. None of his fantasies and wet dreams over the past few months (and there were a shit ton of those) came close to the brain-and-bone melting pleasure that electrified all his senses at the feel of her plush lips and nimble tongue. Hell, nothing in his wild imagination could've prepared him for the intoxicating carnal heaven she'd rocketed him to with her luscious mouth, those soft hands, that mouthwatering silky-smooth body rubbing against his. Holy, holy fuck._

_Tightening his arm around her, he presses a kiss to her forehead and closes his eyes. They didn't sleep much last night, so he could probably use an hour or two before going home to face one (no-doubt) pissed-off Gemma Teller (since there was no fucking way he was going to stop kissing Tara long enough to call and tell his mom that he was spending the night at Opie's). His eyes barely drift shut when the phone rings - probably Charming PD again; they'd left a message last night that Old Man Knowles was going to be an overnight guest in the drunk tank yet again._

_But the voice leaving a message on the answering machine isn't anyone from Charming PD. "Hey Tara, it's Scott. Last night was great. Wondering if you want to head to the lake with me today. It'll be fun. Call me."_

_And just like that, Jax's sleepy contentment gets blown to shit. His eyes fly open as anger explodes inside him; gritting his teeth, he resists the urge to get up and hurl the fucking answering machine against the wall. There's no goddamn fucking way that Tara's spending another second with that prick, much less spend the day at the lake with him dressed in her cock-hardening bikini. Jax would sooner rip that son-of-a-bitch into bloody pieces with his bare fucking hands._

"_He's not my boyfriend, you know." A soft voice breaks through his rage and plans for gory murder. Glancing down, Jax feels his temper start to drain away as he melts into a fucking puddle at the sight of her warm green eyes and soft smile. "We've only been going out for a couple of weeks."_

_He picks up her hand resting on his chest and kisses her palm. "Well whatever it was, it's history now. Give me his number, and I'll tell him that you guys are done. You're not going to the lake or any fucking place with him ever."_

_Propping herself up, she quirks an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" But before can answer, he's distracted by the mind-melting sight of her lush breasts practically spilling out of that silky black bra. He'd been fantasizing about those puppies for months; getting to touch them last night - even through her bra - had been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. _

_It's not until she pokes at his shoulder that he tears his eyes away from that world class rack to gaze at her beautiful - albeit slightly irked - face. "What?" He franticly searches his empty brain for what they might've been talking about._

_She rolls her eyes. "They're just breasts, Teller. I've never understood what makes you guys so crazy for lumps of fatty tissue." Then she looks away, as if gathering her thoughts. "Jax, I don't want you to call Scott. If I'm going to stop seeing him, then that's something I have to tell him myself - not you."_

_Dropping her hand, he bolts upwards and scowls at her. "What do you mean by 'IF' you're going to stop seeing him, Tara? After last night…fuck it…you can't…you can't go out with anyone…I mean besides me." Jesus Christ, could he sound like a bigger fucking dipshit? He's always been able to smooth-talk girls, apparently except now with THE girl._

_But instead of laughing her ass of at him, she smiles - almost shyly - and runs her soft hand up and down his arm. "Do you mean it? That you want it to be just you and me?"_

_Drowning in those warm mossy green eyes, he nods slowly, definitively. "Just you and me, Babe. No one else."_

_That perfect brow quirks up again. "But what about all those croweaters and your harem at school? You told Opie that you liked variety. What if you get bored?"_

_Jax makes a mental note to beat the hell out of his best friend for telling her that shit; leaning down to kiss her plump pink lips, he caresses her soft cheek with his fingers. "Tara Knowles, you couldn't bore me if you tried. And I don't give a shit about any of those girls; not when I can be with you. You're the smartest person I know, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen AND you have the most awesome pair of fatty tissues…"_

_Laughing, she rolls onto her back then gazes up at him, green eyes twinkling. "In that case…" Her fingers toy with the front close of her bra while he stares intently and tries to remember how to breathe. It's moot because all the air vaporizes from his lungs when she releases the clasp and pulls the cups away. Holy fucking shit, his fantasies did not do bare breasted Tara Knowles justice. Not fucking close._

"_Jesus, Babe…" He brushes his thumbs around the rosy areolas as he stares riveted at her thick, pale pink nipples. "So beautiful. So fucking, fucking beautiful…" Unable to resist for another second, he sucks a plump tip into his mouth, moaning his approval as it hardens against his tongue._

_Tara's fingers tangle in his hair as she arches upward into his hungry mouth, gasping his name over and over as he pleasures her breasts. "Jax…" Her hands slide down his bare, sweat-drenched back to squeeze his ass. "This time…I want to touch you this time…" _

_Since he lost all his brainpower when she stripped off her bra, he's got no clue what she's talking about - until her soft hand pulls down the front of his boxers to grip his swollen dick. Closing his eyes, Jax sends up a billion thank you's to the powers of the universe for putting her in his life. Last night, kissing her got him so worked up that he had to sprint to her bathroom and finish himself off before he came in his boxers. Apparently, he won't have to do that this time._

_Pressing one more wet kiss to each thoroughly sucked nipple, he rolls to his side and claims her mouth. Then twining her fingers with his, he slides their joined hands up and down his hard cock, squeezing tight. It feels so fucking, fucking good that seconds later he's burying his face against her neck, crying out her name as his dick erupts into their entwined hands._

"_So you're going to break it off with that asshole, right? Today." Ten minutes later, his whole body's still buzzing, but his brain's finally working again. "You're mine now, Tara." He pulls her closer against him. "From now on, it's just you and me, Babe…no one else."_

_Green eyes glowing, she beams at him causing his heart to skip an actual fucking beat. "Okay, Baby." Stroking his face, she spikes his pulse with a slow, deep kiss. "Just you and me." _

* * *

He can't stop looking at the photos of her in that black album.

Sitting on his couch, drinking from yet another bottle of whiskey, Jax stares at the images of the girl he loves so much - smiling and laughing in the arms of another man. Given these were all taken over a dozen years ago, it shouldn't hurt so goddamn much…He thinks about ripping the pictures to shreds then shoving them down Reese's throat - right before he jams his knife into the fucking prick's gut.

Jax pulls one photo out of its slot and looks at it closer, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Looking gorgeous in a tank top and cut-offs, she's stretched out on a deck chair - long, slim legs stretched out in front of her - reading a massive textbook that had to be at least a thousand pages. "That's my girl…" Okay, maybe he'll keep some of the pictures. Put them in the redwood box to show their boys someday.

It all makes sense now; he scowls at a photo of Reese beaming happily at Tara, his arm draped around her possessively. Even after all this time, the guy still loved her - enough to keep old photos of her on his bedside table, enough to insert himself into her murder investigation, enough to manipulate her husband into finding and executing her killer.

"_Jarry and her deputies might be able to find the murderer, but then what? The lowlife scumbag agrees to rat out another lowlife scumbag, who's higher on the criminal food chain, in exchange for a couple of years in Stockton and a decade on parole? Does that sound like justice to you?" _ There's no doubt in his mind that Reese had himself assigned to Tara's case to derail the Sherriff's investigation; he doesn't want her murderer to get arrested then make a deal for a cake-walk sentence. _"I can assure you that we want the same thing - justice for an innocent woman." _

As much as Jax hates the asshole, he can understand why Reese put all this into motion. Shit, during their eleven-year separation, he never stopped loving Tara; not for one second. Thinking back to all the guys he knew who ever loved her, they all seemed to have a measure of obsessiveness - including (especially) him. Maybe the little girl who struggled to find love from her parents gravitated to men (and little boys, if you count Tommy and young David Hale) who loved her so much that they couldn't let go. And there's no doubt that Reese's still fucked-up crazy about her. The question's whether the prick's more like the pain-in-the-ass, albeit harmless, quarterback that Tara dated before him (although Jax lost track how many times he had to beat the shit out of that guy to make him go away) or ATF Agent Joshua Kohn - a true psycho who'd been a danger to all of them.

Taking another swig of the whiskey, he laughs. Back in high school, Tara used to tell him he should think about a career in psychology because he'd done well in the class and was pretty good at reading people. The problem was that he didn't give a fuck what most people thought - just the ones who mattered to him, his family and his Club.

And now he certainly gives a fuck about what Nick Reese might be thinking; the guy's put his career at risk to pull this stunt. But even knowing their shared purpose, Jax would sooner kill the prick than trust him - from the hate in Reese's ice cold eyes, the feeling's definitely mutual. And now Jax knows why.

_Shaking with rage, Jax stalks out of Reese's room desperate to get out of the prick's house - but Bobby intercepts him before he gets to the stairs. "Don't read anything on Tara's part about those photos. It was a long time ago." His Brother shakes his head as Jax tries to pretend he doesn't give a shit about ancient history. "Take a look at that wedding ring on your finger, Jax. Tara married you…not him. Those boys are your sons…yours and hers. He may have had for a little while, but she came back to you. Don't ever forget that."_

Finishing off the bottle, Jax decides to wait until this whole thing plays out before he kills Reese; he might still need the asshole's help in finding Tara's killer. But make no mistake - the Chief Deputy Attorney General will be dead soon. No one fucking touches his girl.

* * *

**AN: Some of you have been curious about Nick Reese and his role in this story. Special kudos go out to Ohne Namen for following the clues I left in Part 1! Since Jax and Tara were reunited in S1 because of Kohn, I liked the idea of another man from Tara's past showing up to drive Jax at the end. The question's whether Reese's like Jax and just wants justice dealt to Tara's killer, or is he another Kohn with a darker purpose? You'll know soon…**


	10. Thinking About the Things I Do

**AN: SO sorry again for the long delay; had a big work presentation that ate up the last two weeks. Hopefully things will be calmer at the office, and I can update more frequently. Also, I have to admit, writing about a certain blonde whore made me a little nauseous.  
****  
Special thanks to Ohne Namen &amp; Mrssilvers for keeping me on my toes :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 9: ****THINKING ABOUT THE THINGS I DO**

_The man's definitely going to be Governor someday - if not President - given his clear talent for captivating and manipulating anyone with a dick or a pussy. Jarry tries to hide her amusement as the hardened blonde madam - who'd greeted them with cool, barely contained hostility - melts into a fawning puddle at Nick Reese's feet just seconds after they start talking. A cop for almost twenty years, she's lost count of the number of whores she's seen set ego-flattering traps for high-step guys like Reese, but Collette Jane's girlish giggles don't sound anything like the practiced seduction of a seasoned professional._

_But then again none of the "escorts" they'd encountered proved immune as Reese charmed through the icy roadblocks tossed their way when Jarry launched her questions. Even the horrified johns had warmed to Reese once assured that the County Sheriff and the Chief Deputy AG weren't there for any kind of a bust. Just a murder investigation._

_Talking to the madam's a formality though; they got most of the information they needed before they even set foot in the whorehouse. Before leaving for Diosa, they'd stopped at the Sanwa county jail to visit the original source of the lead, one of Collette's girl's named "Kitten," who Jarry's deputies had busted for cocaine possession after initially pulling her over for speeding - not the first time for either charge. Desperate to avoid a lengthy sentence, the nervous whore had announced that she knew something that might help solve the shocking double murder that'd rocked the whole county. _

_And so they'd grilled her about everything she saw go down between the late Dr. Tara Knowles and her husband outside Diosa just a couple of days before the good doctor's violent death - apparently the Tellers' marital fight that day wasn't the only thing Kitten had witnessed. Jarry had been sitting next to Reese when the whore told them about both of her boss' hook-ups with Jax Teller - the last time resulting in "the wife" catching them together and beating the shit out of Collette prior to pulling a gun on her cheating husband. Nothing changed in Nick's polite smile or congenial tone, but Jarry felt him freeze - like suddenly she was sitting next to a fucking glacier._

"_You're barking up the wrong tree if you think Jax had anything to do with killing his wife," Collette tells them, her eyes lingering on Reese. "He was crazy in love with her, everyone could see that." Something dark flickers across her face; it's gone in a flash, but enough to tell Jarry that the blonde madam didn't regard Teller as just a business partner or a casual fuck._

"_Judging by your tone, I get the sense you don't think that's necessarily a good thing." Jarry pounces, narrowing her eyes into a probing gaze. Did Collette Jane want Jackson Teller enough to get rid of her competition?_

_The madam shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. "Jax's domestic situation is none of my business. But if you must know - generally speaking, I've never been a fan of love; it makes people weak."_

_It's then that Reese tells them that he has to leave for a meeting in San Francisco; rising to his feet, he thanks the madam for her time before heading for the door. Jarry watches with avid interest as Collette jumps up to waylay him, whispering in his ear as she strokes his arm._

_Reese steps back, flashing his mega-watt movie star smile at her - although the ice in his eyes could freeze hell. "Thanks for your offer." He extracts his arm from Collette's grasp. "But I'm really not interested in fucking your rancid, diseased cunt." Turning to Jarry, he tells her he'll be in touch later then walks out the door - leaving the two women gaping after him._

_Later that afternoon, Jarry checks her phone to find a text from Reese. "Get two warrants. Search Diosa. Then arrest the head whore for whatever you find."_

* * *

Jax scowls at the dead, bloody bodies of the Niners littering the ground. Goddamn bastards. In a shocking move, the Niners ambushed the Mayan's Stockton charter, trapping some of the members in their clubhouse - including Alvarez, who'd decided to stay overnight instead of heading back to Oakland, and Nero. It'd been his friend's frantic call that'd jarred Jax awake this morning - fully clothed on his couch after passing out from another whiskey-fueled bender, Reese's photos of Tara scattered all over the place. After promising to get there right away, he'd called Chibs to mobilize SAMCRO to ride out for Stockton.

Although most of the members of the new Mayan charter live in town, Alvarez deliberately set up the clubhouse well outside the city limits to avoid the scrutiny of the Sanwa Sheriff, headquartered in downtown Stockton. It's as if Marcus knew shit like this would happen.

They'd arrived to find the two factions exchanging a hail of bullets - the army of Niners, taking cover from behind their SUVs, blasting away with their automatic weapons while the Mayans returned fire from inside their dilapidated clubhouse. Even though it looked like Black out-numbered them all, SAMCRO carried the element of surprise - taking out many of the Niners from behind. It's Tig who alerts them that one of the SUV's trying to escape down the dirt road leading to the freeway. Unwilling to let the deserting Niners get away, Jax signals for Quinn and Montez to follow him in chasing down the fucking cowards.

It's a miracle that none of them get shot despite the torrent of automatic fire that spews from the speeding SUV; an even bigger miracle that their bullets send the black Escalade spinning out of control to slam into a tree. His Brothers quickly dispatch the two Niners in the car before hauling August Marks out of the back seat.

Jax's a little shocked to see the Niner's de facto leader, as Marks usually followed the same MO as his mentor, Damon Pope - using the Niners as a private army but never getting his hands dirty to avoid the taint on his legitimate businesses. Hate and rage surge through him like a life force; even though Pope had orchestrated the events leading to Opie's brutal murder, Marks had been his top lieutenant, heir to his empire, so - fair or not- Jax hated and blamed him as well. For business reasons, he'd tried to separate the two kingpins in his mind knowing Marks represented the best solution for getting SAMCRO out of guns - but then the goddam asshole blew that to hell with this attack on the Mayans.

He glares at the man on his knees; maybe a couple of weeks ago, Jax might've shown the man some mercy - might've played the situation to his Club's advantage. But then a couple of weeks ago, he still had a vision for SAMCRO; a couple of weeks ago, the dream for his own future happiness still lived. But now it's all gone; now all he's got hate - and blinding, burning rage over everything that he's lost.

Staring down into Marks' defiant, hate-filled eyes, Jax decides to take a stab in the dark before sending the son-of-a-bitch to hell. He'd discounted any thought of Marks' responsibility for Tara's murder simply because he didn't see a motive, but now that the fucker pulled this shit…

"I have to say, I'm kind of surprised to see you here, August. Kind of a fucked-up move attacking Brown like this. Makes me wonder what other fucked-up shit you've done recently…" Jax points his gun at Marks' head, his fingers itching to pull the trigger. Although if it turns out that Marks murdered Tara, there's no fucking way Jax would settle for a bullet to the brain. Too easy - and not nearly enough torturous pain. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

A flicker of confusion crosses Marks' face before realization dawns. "You're out of your goddamn mind if you think I had anything to do with what happened to your Old Lady," Marks retorts scornfully. "If I wanted to hurt you, Teller, I'd cut your fucking head off. I wouldn't waste my time on worthless pussy."

Jax's rage spikes another thousand degrees; red mist coating his vision, he whips the goddamn shitbag across the face with his gun. Sneering at the man's grunts of pain, Jax holsters his gun and pulls out his knife; bending over Marks, he holds his knife against the bastard's neck until blood trickles down his skin. "No one fucking talks about my wife like that…I'm gonna have to cut out your goddamn tongue."

Despite the blood pouring from his face and neck, Marks laughs out loud. It's as if he knows that Jax's going to kill him and wants to rile the shit out of the SAMCRO President before he goes. "Okay, I take it back. You know, I saw your wife once…fine, fine piece of ass - much better than you deserved, Teller, since you spent all your time with the redneck crackers in your pathetic MC. Shit, I should've fucked her. She would've left you stupid ass for sure - and hell, might still be alive."

Snarling as fury overtakes him, Jax jams his knife deep into Marks' throat - perversely enjoying the sight of the dying man convulse with pain before twisting the blade deeper until the fucker stops moving, his dark eyes open and sightless in death. Maybe Marks didn't have anything to do with killing Tara, but in attacking the Mayans, he could've hurt Nero. Jax had been too fucking late to save his wife - not to mention goddamn nowhere near finding the walking corpse who murdered her - but at least he could avenge this threat on his friend. And unleash all the hate and rage that's been building and boiling inside him since Tara died.

Jax yanks his knife out of Marks' throat and wipes the blade clean on the grass; rising to his feet, he spits into the dead man's bloody face. Turning around to tell Quinn and Montez to get rid of the bodies, he spots Rat standing next to them.

"Jax, you need to get over to the clubhouse." Rat tells him quietly. "It's Nero."

Speeding off on his bike, Jax feels the stabbing pain in his head return, along with the nausea churning in his stomach. Shit, it'd been a fucking miracle that he'd managed to ride here - much less engage in a gun fight with the Niners' army - but somehow his hate and anger kept him afloat.

He bursts into the clubhouse and freezes in his tracks at the sight - a few dead Mayans lay on the floor surrounded by glass, debris and blood from the hail of bullets the Niners had blasted into the room. Then his eyes lock on to the true horror: Nero, lying on the ground, eyes closed as blood pours out of his side, drenching the thick towel Chibs presses against the wound.

"Holy shit." Jax runs over, dropping to his knees next to his friend just as Nero's eyes pop open.

"Hey Mano." Nero whispers, smiling weakly. "Didn't duck fast enough."

Jax clasps his hand. "You're going to be okay, Nero." He darts a glance at the blood-soaked towel before glaring at Alvarez. "We need to get him out of here. He needs a fucking doctor." Sharp pain claws him at the reminder that SAMCRO no longer has a Club doctor.

His anguish must've spread across his face because Alvarez squeezes Jax's shoulder. "He'll be fine, Ese. But we can't risk taking him to the hospital. I called our doc, he'll meet us in Charming."

Bobby steps forward, phone in hand. "I called Diosa…Lyla says they can take care of him there."

Jax frowns. "Why go all the way to Charming? What about Diosa here? Did you call Collette?" Although the thought of setting foot in that place makes him sick given what happened the last time, he's got to focus on Nero.

A strange expression crosses Bobby's face. "Couldn't reach her...Look, it'll be easier if we take him back home."

Jax looks down at Nero, who nods slowly before closing his eyes. "Okay, buddy. We'll be with you all the way." He squeezes his friend's hand before stepping aside to let several Mayans take the wounded man and carry him outside to a waiting van. Walking alongside Alvarez, he watches Chibs jump into the back with Nero then Happy and Rat and several Mayans take off on their bikes to escort the van to Charming.

"What the fuck happened here, Marcus?" He whirls around to rage at the Mayan president. "Jesus Christ, what'd you do to get Marks so fired up that he'd come all this way to kill your ass?"

Alvarez stares at the dead Niners that his soldiers had piled up to put into another van. "Me and Marks…bad blood for a long time. He's wanted me dead since Jesus was a baby, but after the shit that went down last time with LaRoy, Pope always made us play 'nice' - stay away from each other, control our own. Would be bad business for everyone if we went to war. But after Pope was gone, after Marks got control of the guns, he must've thought it was time to get rid of me and my crew and then, Lin and the Triads. With us gone, Black would control all the Bay and Sanwa."

"Shit, man. I didn't know things were this bad between you guys…" Jax shakes his head in self-disgust; actually he hadn't given one goddamn thought about what it would really do to the other crews if Marks got the guns. All that'd fucking mattered to him was pushing his vision for SAMCRO forward, which meant extracting them from the Irish. That fucking single-minded goal had blinded him of so many things; had he paid fucking attention to the shit happening around him, maybe this wouldn't have happened. If he paid fucking attention to the shit happening around him, maybe Tara would still be alive.

Alvarez eyes the blood covering Jax's shirt and jeans. "You took care of Marks?" At Jax's nod, he shrugs. "It's fixed now. We knew the assholes were coming; knew that Marks wanted to be the one to kill me - because his crew fucked up so many times before. We got a hold of one of their guys; had him call and say that they had me trapped here…" He grins slowly at his cleverness. "But I didn't think he'd bring his entire fucking army. If you guys hadn't helped us, it could've been me and my soldiers dead in those piles."

Jax stares at him, anger spiking once again. "You knew the Niners were coming here? Jesus Christ, Marcus! Why didn't you tell Nero to get the fuck out before those pricks got here? He's not part of your shit with Marks."

Alvarez turns to stare at the pool of Nero's blood on the floor. "Shit…this was his idea. End it once and for all. I'm not as young as I look, Teller. One day, those shitheads might've finally caught up with me…what would've happened to my family, my crew?" He turns those intense black eyes on Jax. "I know now why you wanted SAMCRO out of guns, Jax. Your way of protecting your family and your Club…But it's the other way for me. Controlling the guns in the Bay, we can make sure that someone like Pope or Marks don't get that kind of power again. It's the only way we all survive. You know what I'm asking you here…"

Watching some Mayan soldiers drive off with the dead bodies, Jax sighs then nods. "The Irish liked Marks because of his pipeline, his contacts. But I guess you're a likeable, friendly guy…" He smirks at Alvarez, who shoots him the bird. "If we can convince those Irish assholes that you've got enough reach…Now that Marks is dead, they won't be able to say no. And there's this old Italian guy I know who you can meet. All the mob families listen to him…"

"Thanks, Ese." Alvarez shakes his hand. "I meant what I said that I was sorry about what happened to Tara; sorry for you and your kids. You let me know if you need anything from me. Mayans are pretty good at retaliation…"

* * *

"So what the hell was that back there?" Jax asks Bobby as he mounts his bike and straps on his helmet. The pounding hangover's still fucking with his head, but a guy with no eyes or ears could tell his Brother's holding back about something.

Bobby sighs as he lights a cigarette. "Didn't want to say it in front of everyone, but Diosa here got raided last night. Collette's in jail for drug possession; apparently they found a shit-ton of coke in her room."

"Jesus Christ…That happened last night? Why the fuck didn't any of you tell me?" Jax shoots incredulous glares at each of his Brothers.

Bobby and Tig exchange glances, before Bobby replies. "I tried calling you last night, but you didn't answer your phone; then you called hell-bent on hunting down Reese. Given all that shit you were dealing with, it just didn't seem right to load you down with more…And then this morning with the Nero and the Mayans…"

Jax runs his hands through his hair as he calms down from the shock of Diosa getting raided; truth be told, even if they'd been able to reach him with the news, he wouldn't have done anything differently last night - taking care of Tara and going after Reese would've remained his top priorities. And then finding out Reese's past connection to Tara had knocked him on his ass. Besides, he stopped giving a shit about earning big from Diosa or anywhere the day he lost Tara; all of his plans had revolved on giving her the beautiful life that he'd promised so many times.

He flips open his phone that he's more or less ignored except for talking to Bobby last night and then Nero this morning. Fuck, there had to be over a dozen voice messages from calls he'd missed. Well he's got no time to listen to them now; instead he dials Gemma's number to break the news about Nero. This should be fun.

His mother takes the news well over the phone; however, the initial shock must've worn off quickly, because when they arrive at Diosa, he finds her waiting for him - practically frothing at the mouth, her eyes wild with fear. "What the hell happened, Jackson?" She flies into his arms. "No one will tell me anything; they won't even let me see him."

"He'll be okay, Mom." Jax squeezes her shoulder before pulling away. "Chibs is with him now and the Mayan doc's on his way here from Oakland." He starts for the back rooms where they'd taken Nero, stopping when she grabs his arm.

"So far away...What if Nero can't wait that long?" She bites her lip as a tear rolls down her face. "Isn't there a doctor anywhere closer? Shit, can't we just take him to St. Thomas?"

Jax shakes his head, feeling the same worry and grief etched on his mother's face. "We can't take him to any hospital, they'll notify the Sheriff the second they see that gunshot wound…And Nero's got a record." Jax swallows hard as the grief squeezes tighter. "SAMCRO had the only real doctor around here..."

"Oh Jesus…" His mom's face crumples before she slumps against him, sobs wracking her body. He hugs her tight, commiserating in their shared sorrow.

It doesn't seem humanly possible to ache for Tara any more than he already does, but now with Nero injured, he longs for the brilliant doctor who'd treated and saved so many - including most of the important people in his life. Despite Jax's assurances to Gemma and to himself that Nero will be fine, he doesn't trust any doctor who's not Tara - fuck knows what kind of medical training the Mayan doc has. It's a horrifying to think that the goddamn monster who'd murdered Tara could ultimately be culpable for Nero's death as well.

As he feared, the Mayan doctor's more like Chibs, a former military medic with some hands-on training, instead of a real surgeon like Tara. Even worse, the guy's pretty new to the job given the Mayan's last doc got shot full of holes when Lobo Sonora attacked Alvarez's drug operations in Oakland.

"Well?" Jax prods the man who, after checking out Nero's injury, looks as pale as his patient - not a good sign. Although, Alvarez glaring daggers at him probably doesn't help the guy's confidence.

"Judging by the entry wounds, he caught three bullets in the lower abdomen; one's a through and through, which is good." However, his grim expression belies that good news. "The other two are still in there. If we're lucky, both are lodged in his ribs or some muscle tissue, which would stop them from puncturing any vital organs. That said…without x-rays, I can only guess at the extent of damage."

Alvarez's black eyes bore holes into his MC's doc (also known as Mateo). "I don't want your guesses," he snaps. "I want to know what the fuck you're going to do to fix him up."

Exchanging uneasy glances with Chibs, Mateo explains the dilemma: they could operate, but depending on where and how deep the bullets had lodged, attempting the extraction could do more harm. However, if allowed to remain, the bullets could cause sepsis or become dislodged and wreak havoc internally. Talk about stuck between a fucking rock and a fucking hard place. Jesus.

Now it's Jax's turn to exchange glances with Chibs as Bobby rubs his shoulder reflexively; apparently they're all remembering the night that Tara pulled those monstrous slugs and shards out of Bobby before either blood loss or infection killed him. Christ, they need her now; he needs her now…more than any goddamn thing in this fucking universe.

His mother's fingers dig into his arm as she starts to shake uncontrollably; this time he doesn't have a single fucking word of reassurance for her. Instead, he turns his gaze to Alvarez. "Doesn't feel right to do nothing. Mateo and Chibs should try to get the slugs out. If they can't…" He glances at the door to Nero's room. "We have to take him to St. Thomas. He can't die, there's a kid depending on him…"

Alvarez returns his hard stare before nodding and motioning to the men to get started, then following them into Nero's room. Jax turns to Gemma, who's still shaking - her eyes fixed on the door closing shut. "You should go back home," he tells her. "There's nothing you can do here, and I'm going to need the boys to stay with you for a couple more days."

"Okay," she whispers before turning to him. "What are you going to do? Are you going to stay here?"

He nods. "For a little while. I got some shit to handle later, but I'll stay close in case anything happens." Kissing her cheek, he gives her quick hug then watches her walk to her car. Then sitting down at the table, he pulls out his phone to listen to all his missed voice messages. Apparently he's in high demand by more than just his Brothers and Gemma.

_Rosen's office calling to schedule an appointment  
__Barosky demanding to know what the fuck happened at Diosa  
__Ally Lowen wanting to schedule a time to talk _(Jax had to listen to the message twice to make sure he heard it right)  
_Barosky calling again  
__Stockton County Jail asking if he'd accept a collect call from Collette Jane  
__Barosky demanding a fucking call-back, fucking now  
__Margaret Murphy asking if he could meet her and her husband, Dave, this afternoon to talk about Abel_

There's a ton more calls from Barosky's number, but Jax doesn't give a shit, dialing Margaret Murphy's number instead. Tara's old boss answers almost immediately with the news that her husband's been able to get Abel to talk. Jax tells her that he's heading over to St. Thomas right away.

Striding towards the door, he tells Bobby that he's headed out only to stop short when his Brother tells him it'd be a good idea to clean up first. Shit, he'd forgotten about his blood spattered shirt and jeans.

As he rides home to change clothes, he can see her vividly - just like the night she and the surgical team had saved Abel. Those beautiful green eyes darken with disappointment when she spots the blood on his shirt. _"Clean yourself up, Jax,"_ she rebukes him softly, backing out of his arms. He wants to tell her that killing Marks was necessary to save Nero and the Mayans, to prevent a bloody street war, to momentarily satisfy the goddamn fucking rage inside of him for losing her. To forget for a minute that so far he's completely failed at avenging the person he loves more than anything.

"_Actions always have consequences."_ He can hear her say, like she's told him so many times. This time he's thought through any possible consequences, and there's nothing. With Marks and most of the Niners dead, there's no threat of blowback - whatever remaining members would be too small and powerless to do shit. The Irish will give control of the guns to the Mayans, who Jax knows will deal fairly with all the other crews and MCs; despite the fact he's a violent motherfucking killer, Alvarez's an honorable leader. The streets will be in good hands with him.

If only he'd been this prescient when he'd agreed to let Tara get so involved in SAMCRO business, especially the RICO mess with Otto. That's when all this hell started. If only he'd thought through the consequences then.

_He walks into their dark bedroom; even though she went to bed a while ago, he senses she's still awake - unable to sleep after the horrifying ordeal she'd suffered the day. Not that he can fucking blame her. Shit, standing in the shower, he couldn't stop hearing the hollow ache in Tara's voice as she described the brutality she'd witnessed, couldn't stop thinking of Otto murdering that nurse in front of her. Jesus Christ, Tara was there in the room…what if Otto hadn't stopped his murderous violence with the other woman? What if he'd gone after Tara, too? "He saved the MC, but he needed to hurt you…the way you hurt him…someone you love." Jax had crushed the bar of soap and stormed out of the shower stall._

_Dropping his towel, he climbs into bed and pulls her tight into his arms, burying his face in her hair. She shivers from the initial contact with his still-damp body then burrows closer. "I'm scared, Jax." She chokes back a sob. "What if everyone thinks I was in on his plan to kill her? Oh my god…poor Pam. That poor woman…" _

"_Hey…Don't cry Babe." He reaches over to turn on the bedside lamp. Framing her face with his hands, he brushes her tears away with his thumbs before pressing his lips to her forehead. "No one's going to think you had anything to do with what happened. You had no idea Otto was capable of killing an innocent woman. Shit, none of us did or I wouldn't have let you within a million fucking miles of him."_

_She shakes her head, spilling more tears down her cheeks. "I never thought of the consequences of all this lying and sneaking around to see Otto at the prison. All I could think about was getting SAMCRO clear of RICO, then you would be safe, our family could stay together." _

"_It's going to be okay, Tara." He strokes her hair and drops a kiss on her lips. "I'm not going to let any of this shit blow back on you. I promise. You, me and our boys…we're going to be fine."_

_Closing her eyes, she nuzzles his chest. "I love you so much, Baby. I love our life together…It's what I've always wanted, a family with you. I'm just so scared that I could lose it…"_

_He shifts so that he's looming above her. "You'll never lose me or our family. I've told you before…I'll love you forever, Tara. You're stuck with me for a while."_

_Running her fingers through his beard, she pulls his head down to fuse his lips to hers. Fear, anger, grief evaporate instantly as heat overwhelms them. He strips her quickly, then takes his time to savor the intoxicating softness of his wife's body from the top of her head down to her toes. Smiling as she moans his name and grips his hair, he swirls his tongue around her stiff nipples again and again and again before kissing his way down her stomach to nuzzle the damp silk between her smooth thighs. Draping those long legs over his shoulders, he plunders slowly - licking and lapping her plump pink lips until she's soaking wet and gasping with pleasure._

"_Do you want to come like this?" Jax rubs his fingers against her clit before pressing a light kiss to the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing breathy moans from her. "Or…" He stares into her desire-glazed eyes and wraps her hand around his brick-hard cock. "Do you want me inside of you?"_

_She answers by squeezing his dick so hard he nearly comes in her hand. Pushing all the way into her, he growls hungrily as she wraps her legs around his waist and grinds against him. "You'll always be inside me, Baby." She nibbles his ear then buries her face against his neck to muffle her screams as he fucks her hard and slow, over and over and over for the rest of the night._

"_And you'll always be inside me…I love you, Tara." Lifting her hand, he kisses her wedding ring before drifting off to sleep. _

"_Actions always have consequences."_ He hears her say again, worry and sadness lacing her voice. _"__You keep saying you want to change things, but you keep repeating old behavior. You can't have it both ways." _It's all going to work out, Babe," he answers out loud. "It's all going to work out. Nero will be fine, and I'm going to get our boys out of here. I made you that promise, and I intend to keep it."


	11. Fixing What Matters

**Chapter 10: FIXING WHAT MATTERS**

"_Who the hell does this guy think he is?" Patterson fumes, pacing angrily across the conference room floor. "He can't tell me who I can arrest, who I can prosecute. This is MY county…It should be MY decision who gets charged with anything. That arrogant son-of-…" As if remembering she's not alone, the DA's dark eyes snap to Jarry, who's sitting at the table pretending to read texts on her phone._

_Actually, Jarry can understand the other woman's frustration. Talk about a one-sided tug-of-war; Reese has all the weight on his side when it comes to the Roosevelt-Knowles case - or any case for that matter. Patterson can bitch all she wants about his decisions, but there's really not a damn thing she can do about it; both Nick's boss, the Attorney-General, and the Governor sit firmly in the inner-circle of the man's large and powerful fan club._

_Which means Jackson Teller dodges jail again. Patterson had wanted to use Collette Jane's arrest and incarceration for felony drug possession as an excuse to lock him up as well; since the Biker King and the Madam are business partners, and a mountain of narcotics were seized at that place of "business," it's only reasonable to infer that Teller's involved as well. But Reese put the kibosh on arresting Teller, citing reasons he'd explain when he gets back from San Francisco tomorrow. That should be interesting…_

_With Teller off-limits, Jarry types a text to Cane; she hasn't forgotten how talking to Juice had spiked her bullshit meter. The guy's definitely hiding something…While they wait for Reese to hand down their marching orders, it may be a good time to check out Juice's alibi - the SAMCRO Queen, herself._

_Then remembering the look on Collette Jane's face when she talked about Teller, she types out another text. Might not be a bad idea to find out the whore's whereabouts when her business partner's beloved wife was savagely murdered. Somewhere in this pile of scumbags, Jarry knows the truth's waiting. She just has to find it._

* * *

Jax's not sure what he expected Margaret Murphy's husband to look like, but somehow he hadn't pictured the ever-so-professional hospital administrator married to a burly giant who looks more like a lumberjack mob enforcer than a man who'd devoted his life to helping kids. But within seconds of meeting Dave Murphy, he realizes there's nothing threatening whatsoever about the guy; quite the opposite - with his big, friendly smile and warm brown eyes, Jax can see why Abel opened up to him.

"Really appreciate you helping us out." Jax shakes the man's beefy paw as Margaret opens the door to her office.

Murphy grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Glad to be of help. Tara meant a lot to the both of us, too. And Abel's a real sweet kid."

"I'll leave you two alone." Stepping back from the door, Margaret waves both men into the room - and for the first time since Tara's death, Jax notices there's no hostility in her eyes when she looks at him.

He shakes his head and touches her arm lightly. "Actually, I'd like it if you could stay. Please."

Surprise flashes briefly in the woman's eyes before she nods, a small smile brightening her face as she steers them towards the couch and chairs next to her desk. It's more than clear that Margaret really cares about his boys, just like she cared about their mother; he's counting on it.

Sitting down on the couch, the big man squeezes his wife's hand while focusing his gaze on Jax. "I know Megs told you that I'm not a professional child psychologist, just a retired elementary school guidance counselor."

Megs? Jax tries not to laugh out loud at the thought of uptight, straight-laced Margaret Murphy with a perky nickname like Megs. "Yeah, she did. And that's fine with me. If you can help my son, I wouldn't care if you're the school janitor."

Murphy nods then exhales loudly. "Okay, then…I have to you warn you, this may be hard for you to hear - but it's important to know what Abel's going through right now." At Jax's nod, Murphy pulls out a sheet of paper from the folder he'd been holding. "I asked him to draw me a picture of his family, and he gave me this…"

When Jax was in Stockton, Tara must've sent him dozens of brightly colored pictures that Abel had drawn of their family: stick-figure drawings of himself with his baby brother, parents and grandparents. Taking the paper Murphy hands him, he swallows hard at the sight of two small, yellow-headed stick figures holding hands with the taller stick figure with brown hair, a big pink smile and green dots for eyes. A family of three - for some reason, Abel had left Jax out of the picture. _What the fuck does this mean?_

"When I saw this, a few things struck me - mainly because you're missing…and because evidently Abel still views his mother as the center of his family. So I asked him about that…" Murphy hesitates, prompting Jax to tear his eyes from Abel's picture and stare hard at the man until he continues. "…Jax, he doesn't understand that Tara's not coming back."

Stunned, Jax's jaw drops open. "But his grandmother and I…we both told him that his Mommy went to heaven."

Murphy exchanges looks with his wife before fixing his gaze on Jax once again. "I know…But it appears that he doesn't know exactly what that means. Look, I know Tara was…incarcerated recently. Maybe Abel remembers that - even when she was gone for a little while - she did come back."

Jax closes his eyes as a recent memory pierces him. "Oh shit. He was looking for her…When I took the boys back to the house for the first time since… Well, he thought she'd be there."

Murphy nods grimly then hands his sniffling wife a tissue. "Which leads me to why you aren't in this picture…Why your mother isn't in the picture, despite the fact she's been his primary caretaker since Tara died…Abel believes that the two of you are the reason his Mommy went away. And…to be frank…he's very angry about it."

Momentarily stunned, Jax stares at Murphy in confusion. "What? Why would he…" His eyes widen as realization dawns. "Jesus Christ. The last time he saw her, Tara and I were going to meet the DA. He didn't want to leave her…begged to come with us, but I made him go with my guys to the ice cream shop. Tara told him she would pick him and Thomas up later, but she never got the chance..." He closes his eyes for a long moment, clutching Abel's drawing. "Does he think I killed her?"

Taken aback by the blunt question, Dave shakes his head. "I don't know if Abel understands the concept of killing, Jax. He just knows that his Mommy's gone…and in his mind, you're the one who took her away."

The throbbing headache that'd hammered his skull earlier in the day roars back with a goddamn vengeance, forcing his head to drop into his hands. Every goddamn day's been a living hell for him since he lost Tara - apparently, a living hell that he'd passed on to his sons. Fuck.

After getting out of the hospital, Jax had agonized over how he could possibly face his sons knowing that their mother had died because of him - because of all the shit he'd brought into their lives, because of all the promises he broke. And now that that crushing guilt's grown exponentially worse knowing that Abel blamed him, too.

Somehow he manages to lift his head - no easy feat given the pounding in his brain - and meets Murphy's worried eyes, although it's Margaret's voice that penetrates his pain-filled haze. "Jax, are you okay?" She opens the side table cabinet door, extracts a bottle of water and sticks it into his hand. "Are you taking your medication?"

Medication? What fucking medication? Then he remembers all the pills that the doctor prescribed him after he got out of the hospital; the pills still sitting untouched in the bag. "Uh, yeah - thanks," he lies before guzzling down the water. "I'm fine…So what now? What do I do?"

"You need to talk to him," Murphy answers firmly, shaking his head as Jax sputters to remind him of all the attempts he's made that Abel ignored. "About Tara. You need to talk to him about his mother; that you miss her, too...Explain that, even though she's not coming back to live with you guys, she'll always be with all of you because…_all_ of you are a family."

Jax looks down at the picture again, swallows hard again then nods slowly. "Okay." Christ, he'd been avoiding this; talking about Tara's the last thing he wants to do - it hurts too fucking much - but if it's what his son needs... "Is that why he hasn't been talking? Because he's been pissed at me this whole time?"

"Partly." Murphy smiles at him sadly. "He said that his Mommy told him that if he didn't have anything nice to say, he shouldn't say anything. Young kids can be pretty literal in their thinking process." No shit.

And if Tara told him something, Abel would follow it to the letter; there wasn't a kid ever born who loved his Mommy more than Abel Teller. From the beginning, his son's always had a marked preference for the only mother he's ever known - even as an infant screaming and crying from colic, teething or some other distress, Abel always seemed to calm down and gurgle happily once Tara would hold him. Like father, like son.

"Hell, you weren't kidding when you said this would be hard to hear…" Jax runs his fingers through his hair, trying to process all this shit. "What about my mother? Why would Abel think she had anything to do with his mom going away? Was it because she had to break the news to him?"

Murphy once again glances at his wife, but this time, Margaret looks away, her lips tightening with suppressed anger. "What is it?" Jax's gaze bounces from husband to wife, trying to read the meaning behind Murphy's obvious discomfort and his wife's furious disgust.

"To answer that, I need to say something else that might also be hard for you to hear….Before she died, I take it Tara wasn't getting along with your mother…" Murphy stares at his hands; apparently his gifted approach with kids doesn't exactly translate to adults.

Jax gapes at him for a second; what in holy fucking hell's the guy trying to say? "Look man, my mom and Tara always had a schizo relationship; but at the end of the day, they loved each other…There's no fucking way that my mom…"

The big man's eyes widen. "No! That's not what…I'm not implying that your mom had anything to do with...Oh hell no…" Murphy shakes his head furiously then explains that Abel had overheard his Grandma yelling at his Mommy, who wound up crying after Grandma left. "Young children can be quite sensitive to conflict, often assigning more drastic meaning to what they see and hear…and often becoming afraid in the process."

Fucking hell…Gemma and Tara's relationship had been spiraling down the shitter since he took the gavel, but at least they'd always stayed civil around Abel and Thomas. It'd been an unspoken, but steadfast rule: no fighting around the boys. With her fucked-up childhood, Tara might've been a little more diligent than most at trying to keep her sons feeling happy and safe. Although apparently, that'd gone to shit as well if Gemma had been yelling at Tara with Abel in earshot.

"…he believes that his Grandma told you make his Mommy go away. That's why neither of you are in his family picture…Abel wants his mother back, even if it means no Daddy and no Grandma. I'm sorry, Jax…I know that really sucks to hear, but…"

"That's not all…" Surprised by Margaret's interruption, both Jax and Murphy turn to stare at her. Ignoring her husband's plea to let him handle this, she shakes her head and pushes forward. "There's Wendy…" The hate-filled loathing on Margaret's face and in her voice could launch wars. "That junkie bitch…Abel said she told him that she's his mother. As if that poor boy wasn't going through enough pain."

Jax feels his blood freeze despite the roaring heat of the rage exploding inside him. He grips his armrests tight to keep from jumping up and throwing the chair through the window. "When?" He asks through clenched teeth. "I thought Wendy was in rehab."

"Apparently she's been out for a couple of days." Murphy squeezes his wife's arm in an attempt to soothe her agitation. He looks at Jax as if trying to figure out how to do the same for him before dropping the next bombshell. "She's been staying with your mother. Abel said…"

This time Jax lets his fury propel him to his feet; he's going to fucking kill his mother, then that goddamn fucking junkie bitch. The speedball he'd jammed into her arm's going to feel like a fucking day at goddamn Disneyland compared to what he's going to do to that stupid bitch now. Nodding curtly, he thanks the wide-eyed couple before stalking out the door.

"Jax!" He's nearly to the elevator when he hears Margaret calling after him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blurted it out about Wendy like that…"

He pushes the elevator button then turns to face her. "Yeah, you should've." As the elevator door opens, Margaret surprises him when she steps into the empty car with him.

"What are you going to do?" She asks him warily as the doors close. "I know it's none of my business, but you have to be careful. If anything happens to you…the boys…Tara wouldn't have wanted them to wind up with your mother. Or Wendy…not anymore." Margaret pulls off her glasses to wipe her eyes. "I told Tara she shouldn't trust that woman…but she was desperate for the boys' safety; Wendy promised…" She shakes her head, her face hardening with anger. "Wendy betrayed her…just like we all did."

The doors slide open to the lobby floor, but Jax stands rooted to the spot. "What are you talking about? You've always been there for her…tried to help her get away from all this shit. Christ, if only Tara had taken the boys and gone to Oregon that first time…" Jax charges out of the elevator car, sick to his stomach at the memory of how happy and relieved he'd been when Tara decided to stay with him instead of heading to safety.

"No, Jax" Margaret's soft voice stops him in his tracks. "I failed her when she need me the most. And when everything went to hell, I left her to face it alone. Again."

Jax's eyes sting as he absorbs her meaning; Margaret had left Tara alone with Salazar, their murderous kidnapper - albeit at Tara's insistence. Then apparently again when the shit hit the fan about the fake miscarriage; Margaret must've been afraid of his reaction and retaliation and took off with her family. "I would've never hurt Tara, Margaret" he tells her quietly. "Never." He could add that seeing Tara in any kind of pain always hurt him, too; maybe even more. But he doesn't.

Margaret nods, sniffling as she flashes him a small smile. "I know that now, Jax."

He stares at her for a long minute. "Look Margaret…I've made some plans for my family; plans that Tara would've wanted. I can't go into detail right now, but I'd like for you and Dave to think about being the boys' legal guardians if anything should happen to me." Watching her jaw drop open and eyes widen in surprise, Jax hurries on to mitigate the shock. "You don't have to decide right away…and I'll understand if you don't want to do it."

Tears slide down Margaret's cheeks as her smile broadens, spreading across her face. "I'd be honored, Jax. I just have to talk it over with Dave and our kids…But I can't imagine they'd say no. Molly loves them both already." She must've seen the question in his eyes. "Molly's our youngest daughter, she works part-time at the daycare."

"Thank you." He pats her arm. "I got to go. Let me know what you decide."

Storming out of the hospital, the temporary lid he'd put on his rage while talking to Margaret blows to hell at the thought of that goddamn piece of shit junkie near his boys, traumatizing Abel even further - with his own mother's help. Goddamn them both. Pulling out his phone, he dials Rat and tells him to pick up Tara's SUV then head over to Gemma's. When he arrived at St. Thomas earlier, Margaret told him that Gemma had already picked up the boys; for her sake, he hopes his mother enjoyed the past few days with her grandsons - it'll be over his fucking cold, dead body before they stay with her again.

* * *

"_What do you mean she's gone?" Tara's green eyes widen in disbelief. Her horrified gaze drifts over to Abel, sleeping soundly in his carrier next to them on the picnic blanket. "How could she just leave her son?"_

_It's been three days since Donna's funeral, three days since Tara decided to forego her job offer in Chicago and stay in Charming, three days since he told Wendy there'd be no chance in hell for a reconciliation between the two of them. Jax had Tara back, and even though they'd agreed to go slow, he doesn't need or want anyone else. Wendy had begged him to reconsider, insisting once again that they could be happy together as a family. When he refused, she'd screamed all the familiar accusations that she'd hurled at him over and over throughout their short marriage: that he never loved her, that he'd just used her to get over Tara, that he was a goddamn shitty husband. Jax'd kept silent during her tirade; there'd been nothing to say - it was all true._

_After realizing that she couldn't sway Jax from Tara, Wendy decided to leave town - severing all ties with him and Abel; apparently she had no interest in motherhood if the package didn't include Jax. So he'd wasted no time asking Rosen to draw up the custody papers, which Wendy signed without a blink of an eye on her way out of town. With their divorce final any day now, he finally felt free of one of the biggest mistakes of his life._

_But as much as he bitterly regretted marrying Wendy, he couldn't regret his little boy - not in a million years. It's just every time he watches Tara with Abel - like this afternoon when she'd more or less refused to put the baby down during their picnic lunch - he wishes that she'd been his baby's mother. Like they'd always planned._

"_Going back to rehab - again - then who knows…She's giving me full custody so I really don't care what she does." Done talking about his junkie ex, he rolls them over on the blanket so that he's looming above her, staring into those beautiful green eyes that've owned him nearly all his life. "So it's going to be just the three of us…" He drops a lingering kiss on those full pink lips. "You okay with that?"_

_She reaches up to stroke his beard, smiling wryly. "Actually, the four of us - don't forget your mother. But yeah, I'm okay with that…Who wouldn't want to be around two incredibly gorgeous men? I'm a lucky girl…"_

"_Yeah?" He grins down at her before nuzzling her neck, brushing the velvety soft skin with his lips. "You want to get luckier?" His pulse soars at the sound and feel of her giggling against him, her hands sifting through his hair and rubbing his shoulders._

_But unfortunately for his body's swelling excitement, he's fully aware that - in addition to Abel sleeping less than a foot away - they're not alone at the park. So although potential witnesses prevent them from going as far as he'd like, it doesn't stop him from running his hands all over the most delicious terrain on the planet. Fusing his mouth to hers, he pulls her tight against him; Christ, he loves the feel and taste and smell of her. "Holy shit, Babe," he gasps against her mouth. "I love you, Tara. Love you…" He leans in to claim those luscious lips again, ready to keep drowning in the mind-blowing sensation that he could only feel with her._

_That is until Abel decides to wake up from his short nap in true hungry (and/or wet) baby mode, squalling at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, Jax finds himself missing the warm, luscious body that'd been pressed to his just seconds before. "Sorry, Baby." She pecks him on the cheek before crawling off towards Abel's carrier._

_Slightly dazed and more than slightly frustrated, he can't help but smile ruefully at the sight of the two most important people in his life bonding at his expense, well his libido's expense. Propping himself up, his heart swells as he watches Tara cradle the baby in her arms, crooning softly until Abel's gurgling happily, grasping her finger tightly in his fist._

"_Wow, that's some grip you've got there, Buddy." Tara giggles as she gazes down at Abel in loving admiration, just like a proud mom. As Jax watches her feed Abel his bottle, it dawns on him that he doesn't have to wish that Tara had been Abel's mother; from the adoring looks shared between his baby boy and the love of his life, they've already claimed each other as mother and son._

_Scrambling to a sitting position, he wraps his arms around the two people he loves most in the world. "No, Babe." He presses a kiss to her silky hair. "I'm the lucky one."_

* * *

"Jax, what are you doing here?" His mother's eyes widen in alarm at the sight of him and Rat walking into her living room. "Did something happen to Nero?" Tears pool in her eyes. "Don't tell me he's…"

In no fucking mood to allay her fears, Jax doesn't respond, looking around the room instead. "Where are my sons?" She doesn't have to respond as he spots them through the glass patio door leading to the backyard; Thomas in his carrier and Abel sitting next to him, scribbling in a notebook.

Stalking towards the door, his blood boils at the sight of Wendy squatting next to his boys trying to engage a silent Abel in a conversation. But before Jax can race over there and choke the life out of the worthless bitch, she reaches into the carrier to touch Thomas' chubby leg, triggering a shocking response from Abel.

"No!" The little boy screams at her. "Don't touch Tommy!" Them to everyone's stunned surprise, Abel picks up a small rock and hurls it into Wendy's face. "Don't touch my brother!"

"Abel!" Gemma recovers from shock first, racing over to Wendy, sprawled on the ground crying as she tries to stem the blood pouring from the cut on her face. "Apologize to Wendy right now!" Instead, Abel scowls at both of them, sullenly refusing to say a word.

But before Gemma can insist, Jax steps in and shakes his head; he glares ominously at both women before bending down next to his son. "We're going now. Go inside and grab what you need, then Rat's going to drive both of you home. I'll be right there." He squeezes Abel's shoulder reassuringly then kisses Thomas' chubby cheek before nodding at Rat to pick up Thomas' carrier and escort Abel inside.

Once alone with the two women, he lunges for Wendy, grabbing the vile bitch by the neck and squeezing tight as she writhes on the ground like the goddamn slimy worm that she is. "You fucking cunt…" He growls, hate spewing from every pore in his body. "My little boy's hurting and you decide to fuck with his mind. You selfish bitch; you've always been a goddam selfish bitch." He tightens his grip, ignoring Wendy's grunting cries and his mother's pleas for him to stop. Holy shit, it would be so easy to fucking kill this worthless piece of shit. But somehow sanity kicks in, telling him he doesn't need that goddamn complication right now.

Releasing her, almost reluctantly, he steps back and coldly watches her gasp for air. "Listen carefully because I'm going to say this to you one more time…Stay away from my sons." He channels all of his murderous hate into a lethal glare, which he levels at her until sheer terror consumes her face. "The next time I see you…you die."

Jax shoots his mother a withering look then turns to storm out of her house. Ignoring her as she shouts his name, he walks out the front door in time to watch Rat drive away with his boys. Heading over to his bike, he feels his mother grab his arm. Shrugging off her grasp, he straps on his helmet before turning to face her.

"You crossed the line, Gemma," he snaps, venting his rage. "I don't know what fucking mind game you're playing, but it ends now."

Feigning confusion, she tries to look both innocent and contrite - and fails miserably; Gemma Teller Morrow wouldn't know innocent or contrite if either bit her on the ass. "I'm sorry, Jackson. She had nowhere else to go…But I'll get rid of her. I…I didn't know Abel would have such a problem with her."

She didn't know that a grief-stricken little boy might've had a problem with a total stranger telling him that the mother he'd loved more than anything in the world wasn't really his mother? What a goddamn fucking pile of shit. Shaking his head, he gets on his bike. "Doesn't matter," he tells her coldly. "My sons are never coming back here. It's obvious that I can't trust you. Tara was right all along." Hurt and anger spread across his mother's face, but before she can respond, his cel phone rings. Chibs. Shit, this can't be good.

Answering the call, he listens to his Brother report on Nero's condition. Clenching the phone tightly, he feels cold fear replace the boiling anger that'd pumped through his veins just seconds before. "I'll meet you guys there."

"What is it?" Gemma grips his arm. "What's happening with Nero? Goddamnit, Jackson, you can't keep that from me. I deserve to know what's happening to him."

Dropping his phone in his pocket, he eyes his mother coldly. As much as he loves her, it's going to be a while before he'll be able to forgive her for this. But he knows how much she loves Nero; she deserves to know the truth there. "He's in bad shape. Chibs and the Mayan doc can't help him; the bullets are buried too deep for them to dig out - anything they try to do could kill him. Nero needs a real doctor." He needs Tara, the gifted surgeon who'd saved so many - and some, like Abel and Bobby, despite staggering odds; although unspoken, he knows that same thought strikes them both at the same time.

Gemma's face crumples. "Oh Jesus…What are we going to do? He can't die, Jax! He can't die…" Burying her face in her hands, she sobs brokenly. "This is my fault…I'm so sorry…Jesus, I'm so sorry…"

For a minute he almost feels sorry for her - although he's got no idea why she'd blame herself for the Niners' bullets lodged inside the man she loved. That's on Marks and his goddamn fucked-up drive for power. Easing up on his rage, he tells Gemma that Chibs and Lyla are driving Nero to St. Thomas; the Mayans and the rest of SAMCRO would be staying back to avoid linking Nero's injury with any MC business.

"I'm on my way there now." He tells her. "You can come, too. Or I can have Chibs keep you posted."

His mother nods gratefully. "I'll get my car. What about the boys? Who…"

The tiny bit of pity he'd felt for her disappears into thin fucking air. "That's not your concern," he informs her coldly. But before she can argue, he guns his bike's engine and takes off for the hospital. His tolerance for her bullshit just maxed out.

* * *

_He wakes with a jolt; his frantic eyes wildly scour the darkness until he recognizes his own dark bedroom. Just a nightmare, he assures himself, trying to control his ragged breathing - just another goddamn nightmare. Relaxing his tense muscles, he closes his eyes and sinks into his pillow. Shit, the bloody violence in his dreams seems to be getting worse - although it's nothing, fucking nothing compared to the actual, real-life horror of Abel and Tara at the mercy of vicious, violent kidnappers. Suddenly realizing that he doesn't feel Tara's warmth against him, he reaches for her but feels nothing but cool sheets. _

_His eyes fly open again as he bolts upright. For a terrifying moment he wonders whether he'd dreamed about saving her from Salazar, dreamed about bringing her home, dreamed about putting his family back together. Panic swells in his chest, threatening to choke him, until he hears the sound of her soft voice piping in through the baby monitor. _

_Slipping on his boxers, he pads barefoot to Abel's room where Tara's sitting in the rocking chair feeding the baby his bottle. Hugely relieved, he tells himself to go back to bed; tomorrow's going to be a crazy fucking day - his last day of freedom for fourteen months (if they're lucky). But transfixed by the sight of his Old Lady cuddling his son, he can't force himself move from the dark doorway. _

"_I missed you so much." She drops a soft kiss to Abel's forehead. "We have a lot of catching up to do…First, you're going to be a big brother - isn't that exciting? I just know you'll be the best big brother. Just like your Daddy was to his little brother. Remember when I told you about your Uncle Tommy? He was my best friend when we were little. You look so much like him..." _

_Jax can't help but smile as Abel drops his bottle to reach up and touch Tara's cheeks. The baby's definitely taking after his old man - can't keep his hands off the most beautiful girl in the world. _

"_I don't know if your Daddy's been able to tell you, but he'll need to go away for a little while. So it'll be just you and me, and then soon your little brother or sister. Hope that's okay with you…Of course, we'll visit your Daddy every week and see your Grandma every day. I promise I'll take good care of you." She gently grips one of his chubby hands in hers and kisses his small fingers. "I'm so sorry I didn't stop that bad man from taking you. It's my fault you had to go through all of that…my fault…But I swear, Abel, for as long as I live, I'll keep you safe. No one will hurt my baby boy ever again..." _

_It takes all Jax's self-control not to barge in and tell her that she's wrong; that he's the only person to blame for Abel's kidnapping and hers as well. It's his fault for letting those fucked-up pricks anywhere near his family; his fault for exposing the two (soon to be three) people he loves most in the world to the ugly horror of his thug life. Instead, he heads back to bed to wait for her. Turning up the baby monitor, he grins at the sound of his son's happy babbling as Tara croons and sings to him. Then when the Abel falls silent, Jax hears her rise and tuck the sleeping baby into his crib before softly whispering "I love you." _

_A few minutes later, she's slipping into bed beside him - where she belongs. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he drops a soft kiss to her lips then gazes into those warm green eyes. "I love you more." _

* * *

Jax's eyes snap open at the sound of her voice; Christ, he's going out of his goddamn fucking mind. With his sons home, he didn't want to drink himself into a stupor tonight; not to mention, Bobby's haunting words - there's no fucking way he'll turn into that prick, Frank Knowles. But without whiskey's numbing effects, it's almost impossible to fall asleep - especially when he can't get the sound of her voice out of his head.

It doesn't help that he's still worried sick about Nero. His friend had made it through surgery at St. Thomas, but Dr. Gallagher had warned them that the delay in getting him to the hospital might've damaged some internal organs; the full extent won't be known until all the tests come back in the next couple of days. Nero's not out of the woods yet.

_Goodnight bears  
__Goodnight chairs  
__Goodnight kittens  
__And goodnight mittens…_

Holy fucking shit, Jax bolts up in bed. It's definitely Tara's voice; he knows the beautiful sound of it better than he knows his own - and he's heard that voice reading that story hundreds of times throughout his life. It'd been his little brother Tommy's favorite…and Abel's. Turning to the source, he stares dumbly at the baby monitor as the hushed softness of Tara's voice streams through the speaker.

_Goodnight stars  
__Goodnight air  
__Goodnight noises everywhere…*_

Bolting out of bed, he walks quickly but quietly down the hall to Thomas' room. Heart pounding, he stands outside the partially closed door trying to process how he could've possibly heard her voice…which had sounded so achingly real. Peering through the open crack, he spots Abel, dressed in his pajamas, sitting beside Thomas' crib talking softly to his little brother as he closes a much newer copy of _Goodnight Moon_.

Reaching into the backpack that never leaves his side, Abel pulls out another book. "I know you like this one, Tommy." He weaves a hand through the crib bars to touch his brother's plump cheek. "Me, too." Then opening the book, Abel pushes a button and once again, Tara's voice fills Jax's senses, rooting him to the spot.

_I love you quicker than a minute, I love you longer than an hour  
__I love you like the honey bee that's buzzing around a flower_

Unable to stand in the doorway any longer, Jax steps into the room, drawing both of his son's gazes. Abel stiffens visibly and closes the book, the painfully familiar blank stare back in place. Trying not to flinch from the sting of his son's anger, Jax walks over to the crib; lifting up Thomas, he cradles his baby son in his arms before hunkering down to sit next to Abel. "I'd love to hear the book." The little boy eyes him warily, and for a second, Jax fears he might just storm out of the room, like he'd done before when Jax tried to reach out to him. "Please…I loved her, too. So much…"

Abel's blue gaze drift from Jax to his little brother, resting comfortably against their Daddy's chest; then relaxing somewhat, he opens the book and pushes the button to start the story. Once again, Tara's melodic voice fills the room. And every aching part of him.

_I love you the stronger than the wind. I love you softer than a cloud  
__I love you when you are quiet, and I love you when you are loud  
__I love you closer than your shadow, I love you further than the sun  
__I love you, too when raindrops fall one by one by one_

Jax closes his eyes; burying his face in Thomas' soft blond hair, he feels his heart swell with love for his remarkable wife. She must've recorded these books for the boys right after she got out of Stockton, wanting to make sure that Abel and Thomas had bedtime stories long after she left them.

_I love you round and round the world. I love you through and through.  
__And when it seems impossible to love you more…I do**_

How many times throughout their long relationship had he thought that very thing…every time he didn't think it was humanly possible for him to love her any more than he already did, she'd do something that'd bring him tumbling to his knees, falling deeper and harder than ever before. Just like now. Jesus Christ…how in fucking hell's he supposed to live the rest of his life without her? He'd failed abysmally the first time she left, but he'd somehow pushed himself forward thinking that somehow, someday he might get her back. But there's no chance of that now…No goddamn chance…

"Don't cry, Daddy." He feels a soft hand touch his shoulder, prompting his eyes to fly open to see a blurry Abel staring at him with concerned blue eyes.

Trying to smile, he swipes at his eyes with his free hand. "Sorry, Buddy. I just really miss your mom a lot, you know?" At Abel's solemn nod, he fingercombs the little boy's hair, like Tara always used to do. "But she's here with us…because she loves us, she'll always be here."

Then taking a risk, he pulls the little boy towards him so that's he's hugging both his sons tightly. Jax breathes a huge sigh of relief when - instead of resisting - Abel leans into him, burrowing against his chest. "Your Mommy and I love you both so much, so much." Staring into Thomas' painfully familiar green eyes, he presses a kiss to Abel's hair, feeling himself breaking down once again.

"It's okay, Daddy." Abel looks up and flashes him a look that reminds him so much of Tara, his heart nearly stops. Even with no physical resemblance, no one could mimic Tara's expressions better than Abel. "It's okay, Daddy. I'm right here."

* * *

*from _Goodnight Moon_ by Margaret Wise Brown

**from _All the Ways I Love You_ by Theresa Trinder


	12. Trying to Find Some Kind of Balance

**Chapter 11: TRYING TO FIND SOME KIND OF BALANCE**

"_So let me get this straight…" Jarry starts the car then shoots a sidelong glance at her passenger. "We're investigating a potentially bloody crime scene that's got no blood, no bodies and no proof that a real crime actually happened?" Exiting the parking lot, she turns onto the freeway leading to Charming. "Well that's something you don't hear every day."_

_She'd been in a meeting with Patterson when one of the deputies interrupted to tell her that they received a call from Stockton PD about reports of shots fired at the Mayan Clubhouse. However, when the city cops went to investigate, they'd found nothing but a handful of Mayans cleaning up their Clubhouse - the few who claimed to speak English had parroted the same story: someone in a truck just started shooting at them for no reason, then drove away. Nobody got hurt so no big deal._

_Jarry had been about to dismiss the report and head out to continue her on-the-side investigation of Juice Ortiz when another deputy showed up to tell them about a call from St. Thomas Hospital; apparently they admitted a patient suffering from serious gun-shot wounds a few hours ago. When the deputy told them that the patient was Nero Padilla, an ex-con with known ties to both the Mayans and SAMCRO, Patterson had jumped out of her chair and ordered Jarry to drive them to St. Thomas. Convinced the two incidents had to be related, the DA placed a call to CSU, dispatching them to the Mayan Clubhouse to pick the place apart._

"_The witness claimed hearing automatic gun-fire," Patterson reminds her, not looking up from her Blackberry. "That's a crime. And if the bullets recovered from Padilla match anything we can find at the Mayan Clubhouse, well then…there's the blood and the body."_

"_Only if he dies…Look, don't take this the wrong way, but bad guys shooting each other isn't exactly news. We've got enough on our plate with the Roosevelt-Knowles double-murder and shitload of other open cases. Not to mention whores pushing a king's ransom worth of drugs to god-knows-who…" In her years working in Stockton's organized crime unit, Jarry learned to prioritize the shit she saw - yeah, she had to take those assholes down, but her main concern was that they didn't hurt the innocent, law-abiding folks who paid her salary. And if the bad guys decided to weed out their numbers with a little internal bloodshed, well that's a few less scumbags for her to worry about._

_Jarry feels Patterson's cold stare; apparently the DA's not exactly thrilled with her assessment. "Sheriff, I don't believe that criminals should be given carte blanche to do whatever they want to each other. Neither should you." Sighing loudly, the DA starts typing into her phone. "It's starting, don't you see? I've been worried about this…worried about what Teller would do to get vengeance for his wife's death. We need to lock him up before anything else like this happens."_

_Now it's Jarry's turn to stare. "What? You think Teller and SAMCRO had something to do with what went down with the Mayans today?" Her mind flashes back to her meet with Alvarez; she's usually pretty good at sensing when people were lying to her - not that the Mayan President wouldn't lie to her face if he wanted - but she suspected he hadn't needed to lie, the Mayans hadn't killed Eli or Dr. Knowles. That said, maybe Jax Teller hadn't believed him…_

"_Maybe." Patterson starts typing something into her Blackberry. "If the bullets in Mr. Padilla match anything we find at the Mayan Clubhouse, we can start there. It can't be a coincidence that the man wound up in Charming instead of a hospital in Stockton. SAMCRO's involved somehow. Once I prove it, then the Biker King goes back inside."_

_Jarry shakes her head; the DA's about to put herself in a really bad place. "Reese said to stay clear of Teller." Ever since they all started working on this case, the Chief Deputy AG's steered them away from Jax Teller as a suspect in his wife's murder. And probably not because Reese's harboring some particular fondness for the MC President - Jarry's seen the coldness in his eyes when they talked about the man; no, the state's golden boy has something else brewing - something big. And no doubt he'll pulverize Patterson if she fucks up his plans._

"_He said not to arrest Teller for the drugs found at his brothel. This has nothing to do with that," Patterson tells her - likely practicing what she'll say to placate Reese. "Mr. Reese has a political agenda to get the death penalty back in play for the state, I'm supportive of that…but, my job's to keep violent criminals like Teller from hurting the people of this county. If that puts the two of us at odds, well then so be it…"_

_Do you even know Nick Reese? Jarry wants to ask the woman. There's no being "at odds" with the man; you're either with him or you're kicked out of the way. Looks like Patterson's got a hard lesson ahead of her. An uneasy silence blankets the two of them for the duration of the trip._

_At the hospital they find out that Padilla's still in surgery. In the waiting room, they find a tall, thin man wearing a black hoodie talking softly to a distraught Gemma Teller Morrow. Well, well…maybe Jarry can learn something from of this trip after all._

* * *

Amazing how much someone can get done with an untraceable cel phone and a bout of insomnia; before sunrise, Jax'd already set the wheels in motion for transferring the gun business from Marks to the Mayans. Since the ambush on the Mayan Clubhouse, he's already had a few calls with the Irish to tell them what happened - what Marks and the Niners had done, what the Mayans and SAMCRO had to do to defend against the unwarranted attack. He knew how much the Irish hate anything drawing attention to their guns, and this certainly could do that. But he also knew how much the Irish Kings distrust Mexicans - not helped by what went down with the Galindo cartel - so he had a case to build (because if they didn't approve the Mayans, the fucking Irish pricks would probably find a way to bend SAMCRO to their will and back into the gun-running fold).

Before hanging up their latest call moments ago, Roarke had told him that they'd have a decision within 24 hours, and IF they decide to approve the Mayans, the Kings would arrive stateside by the end of the week to seal the deal. What a bunch of sanctimonious assholes. Nevertheless, even though Jax doesn't plan to be part of SAMCRO much longer, he wants to ensure his Brothers remain free from that bloody, violent no-win path.

It helps that Alvarez has Lin and the Triads in his corner, solidifying the Bay - especially with the Niners all but wiped out. Jax also knows that the Grim Bastards and other smaller MCs and street gangs would fall in line, but the big shiny carrot that he'd dangled in front of those greedy IRA bastards was an increased order from the Cacuzza's as well as interest from a potential new client base of Italian "families" from San Diego to Seattle - courtesy of one Marco DeNotti, mafia money man extraordinaire.

Sitting on his bed, Jax touches his wedding ring as he muses over the irony of it all; that Tara's unusual friend could be the key to keeping the guns away from SAMCRO. All of his roads always lead back to her.

"Daddy?" His heart squeezes at the sight of Abel standing in the doorway carrying his ever-present backpack, which Jax now knows carries his son's treasured stash of books that Tara had recorded for him and his little brother.

Jax glances over at the clock and frowns; it's barely six in the morning, Abel had gone to sleep just a few hours ago. "It's still early, Buddy…You should go back to bed."

But stubborn like his parents, Abel ignores the suggestion and walks into the room to stand in front of Jax. Based on the troubled look on his little's boy's face, Jax can guess what's upsetting him and once again curses Wendy and his mother to hell. Pulling his son onto his lap, he kisses Abel's soft blond head. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"

Abel doesn't respond so Jax takes a deep breath and decides to bite the bullet, although wishing he could shoot that bullet into Wendy's goddamn head. "I know what your Grandma's friend Wendy told you." When Abel burrows deeper into his chest, Jax hugs him tighter. "It doesn't matter what she said, we won't be seeing her ever again…You just got to remember the Mommy who was always there for you when you were sick or scared, who read you stories every night, who always planned fun Abel Days… All that matters is how much your Mommy loved you."

Feeling Abel nod slowly against his chest, Jax starts to ruffle his son's hair only to freeze when Abel pulls a framed photo out of his backpack - the framed photo that once sat on the dresser in the little boy's bedroom, one that he apparently felt the need to carry everywhere with him. Swallowing hard, Jax gazes at the picture of a hugely pregnant Tara beaming happily as she holds a laughing Abel in her arms. Unable to help himself, he brushes his thumb against her beautiful glowing face, wishing more than anything that he could feel her soft skin.

"Tommy was in her tummy." Abel tells him solemnly as his small finger taps Tara's pregnant belly. "He's lucky."

Jax feels his eyes sting, his heart aching for his little boy. Not for the first time, he wishes his nineteen-year-old self had made a different decision; had he left Charming with Tara…he knows that Abel would've been theirs for real, that she'd still be alive, that they'd still be together. But he also knows dwelling on thoughts like that get him fucking nowhere except reaching for yet another goddamn bottle of whiskey.

Squeezing his son, he presses another kiss on Abel forehead. "Actually, Buddy, you're the lucky one. You got to spend all that time with her - and have a lot of really good memories, right?" Abel nods earnestly, clutching the picture tightly. "I know that Thomas misses Mommy, too. But he's still really little, and babies his age usually don't remember a lot of things...I'm afraid, Thomas might not remember her when he gets older."

Abel looks so horrified by the thought that Jax sets him gently on the bed then drops down to the floor, pulling a redwood box out from under the bed. "It's going to be up to you and me to make sure he remembers her. Tell him all about how she was the smartest and prettiest and most fun Mommy ever. You think you can do that for your little brother?"

Smiling when Abel nods vigorously - like a cute little bobblehead, Jax then takes a deep breath as he opens the box and pulls out a few of his own treasured photos. In addition to the hundreds of pictures of Tara that he'd saved from their high school days and their time together before Abel's kidnapping, the box now includes all of the pictures of her and his boys that they'd sent him during his fourteen months in Stockton. And eventually he'll add some of the pictures he'd stolen from Reese (of course trashing the ones featuring that fucking prick).

"I keep pictures of Mommy, too." Jax places the selected photos carefully on the bed next to Abel, who flops onto his belly so he can study them more closely. A chuckle escapes him as he watches the little boy's blue eyes widen at the sight of his parents as teenagers.

"You look funny." Abel pokes at one of the photos then looks up at Jax. "You don't have Santa Claus face." Back in high school, he kept his facial hair to a minimum mainly because of school rules. However, since Tara told him how much she loved the feel of his beard rubbing against her body, he pretty much abandoned his razor. But obviously he can't tell his young son that.

He doesn't have to bother with any explanations as the sound of Thomas' cries reverberate from both down the hall and the baby monitor on the nightstand. "Sounds like your little brother's awake, too. Probably hungry. Why don't you go on to the kitchen; I'll go get him and then make breakfast for you guys." Abel hesitates - looking longingly at the photos that Jax had picked up from the bed and then at the redwood box - until Jax promises him that they could look at more pictures tonight (after he edits out the ones with the not-so-kid-friendly images).

Before dropping the photos back into the box, he stares one more time at the picture of him and Tara sitting on a big rock overlooking the ocean; her head resting on his shoulder, his arm squeezing her possessively. It'd been her sixteenth birthday, and he'd taken her to Monterey because she'd wanted to see the boardwalk and the aquarium. Shit, he still remembers every second of that trip like it happened yesterday; they'd been strolling on the beach, taking pictures of the seals when an elderly couple had offered to take their photo. Even now his pulse spikes at the sight of her; Christ she's beautiful, drop dead gorgeous with that dazzling smile and saucy sparkle in those green eyes…It's no wonder that he'd fallen so fucking hard for her.

"_Happy Birthday, Babe." He smooths her windblown hair and flannel shirt out of the way to kiss her bare shoulder. Sitting on rock overlooking the ocean, they'd decided to watch the sun set over the water before heading out to grab dinner._

_Shifting to straddle him, she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a long kiss on to his lips. "Thank you for bringing me here. Today was perfect." As he gazes into those incredible green eyes, everything - the beauty of the California coastline, the bright blue ocean - pales in comparison to the gorgeous girl smiling radiantly on his lap. But then everything does._

"_Day's not over yet…" He wags his eyebrows suggestively then rubs himself against her, his heart and his dick pulsing excitedly at the sound of her musical giggles._

"_Oh, I don't doubt that, Baby…I'm definitely looking forward to what's next." Tickling his ear with her tongue, she squeezes him tight, pressing herself even closer against him. "But right now…I just love feeling your heart beating against mine."_

Lifting Thomas from his crib, Jax stares into his baby's glistening green eyes then hugs him tight, basking in the feel of Thomas' - and Tara's - heart beating against his chest.

* * *

Jax thinks about keeping his sons for the day, but then decides to take them to daycare for a couple of hours; Tara always tried to give the boys a routine, and he knows his sons like going there. Besides he's got to go to the hospital anyway to check on Nero, not to mention all the other shit he's got on his plate for today - most importantly, he's got to get his ass back on track to finding and exterminating Tara's murderer. Which means re-connecting with that asshole prick, Nick Reese.

Speaking of asshole pricks, unlike Dr. Gallagher - who'd operated on Nero yesterday and was in surgery today - none of the other doctors or nurses would tell him shit about Nero's condition because he's not immediate family. Jax considers lying about a familial relationship, but then he's sure they'd all find another coldly polite way to tell him to fuck off. Seems clear that most of the staff at St. Thomas blame and hate him for what happened to Tara. They wouldn't be wrong.

So to get the update on Nero, he tracks down Margaret - who slams him with a double dose of bad news. Apparently Dr. Gallagher's back in the OR because of Nero, suffering from a resurgence of internal bleeding and a sepsis infection that they're hoping won't lead to organ failure. Holy shit, Jax clenches his fists as Margaret tells him that they don't know how long the surgery will last or whether they'll be able to repair all the damage.

As if the news about Nero's not devastating enough, Margaret drops the other bomb. "You should know that after you left yesterday, the DA showed up with the new Sheriff." Her eyes narrow with angry distaste bordering on hate - a look he knew only too well from her, but this time he knows her wrath's directed at Patterson, whom they both blame for emotionally torturing Tara with the threat of prison. "They asked a lot of questions about Mr. Padilla's injury, said they'd be coming back today with a subpoena for the bullets we recovered from surgery."

Jesus Christ, he's pretty sure that those fuckers heard about what went down at the Mayan Clubhouse yesterday; it's just a matter of time before they link Nero to it - no matter how well the Mayans sweep the scene, it'd be a miracle to recover all the bullets and shells that'd blasted all over the place.

"I saw the Sheriff talking to your mother yesterday as well. Didn't look like a friendly conversation…" And Margaret would know, given her own rather contentious relationship with his mother. "Gemma's here now. In the chapel, if you want to talk to her."

Jax nods his thanks and starts to walk away when Margaret touches his arm. "I spoke to Dave and our kids about Abel and Thomas." She flashes him a small smile. "Although none of us want anything to happen to you…we'd be honored to have them be part of our family."

Relief surges through him; had she said no, he wasn't sure what he would've done - there's no one else Tara would've trusted with her babies. "Thank you. I'll talk to my lawyer to get the paperwork to you." He squeezes her hand resting on his arm. "Really, this means a lot…to me and to Tara." Her eyes grow misty as she nods then walks away.

Turning, he heads to the chapel to track down his mother; Gemma doesn't know a fucking thing about what went down with the Niners - what the hell would the Sheriff want to talk to her about? Determined to get the details on his mom's confrontation with the Sheriff, Jax stalks into the room; he's learned the hard way that it's the shit that you don't see coming that hurts the most.

"Any news?" she asks, staring at him as he sits down next to her. "Those assholes wouldn't tell me anything. Wouldn't believe me when I said I was his fiancée."

He cocks an eyebrow; that's fucking news to him. "Are you?" Nero would certainly be an improvement over his mother's last attempt at marital bliss. Provided he survives his injuries or doesn't wind up with a long prison term.

Shaking her head, she wipes the wetness on her cheeks then stares at him with haunted, blood-shot eyes. For a moment, he feels sorry for her once again; if anyone knows the hell she's going through, it's him. "Tell me he's going to be okay, Jackson," she begs. "He's got to be okay."

"I don't know, Mom." He runs his hand through his hair. "He's in surgery again. More internal bleeding and a bad infection that could...well, they're trying to stop it before it gets worse."

More tears pour from her eyes, as she chokes with sobs. "Yesterday, that doctor said…said that the delay in getting Nero to the hospital…made it worse. Do you think if Tara had been there…that she might've been able to…"

"Don't…Don't go there, Mom." Jax grips the edges of the bench so hard that he can feel splinters poking into his skin. He'd tortured himself with that same thought yesterday, and it'd almost mentally crippled him - he can't go there now. "I need to know what you and the Sheriff talked about yesterday. I know she questioned you."

His mother's face morphs from grief to horror before mysteriously going blank; she opens and closes her mouth a few times before responding in a flat tone. "It was nothing; the new Lady Sheriff was just flexing her pussy muscles."

Jax stares at her hard; after a lifetime of studying his mother's many moods, he knows when something's off with her - and something's definitely off the charts here. Whatever she had to say, the Sheriff rattled Gemma Teller Morrow. "Mom, they're going to try and connect Nero with a shootout that happened at the Mayan Clubhouse in Stockton…You got to tell the truth and say you didn't know anything about it…You can't get involved; they'll use it to connect SAMCRO."

Gemma blinks in what seems like surprise, but before he can process it, she leans in to hug him. "I'd never do anything to put you or the Club at risk, Jackson. You know that. It's what I told you before…the Sheriff was just throwing around some bullshit questions, trying to get me to bite. I didn't tell her a goddamn thing."

Jax pulls away abruptly; she may be his mother and he loves her, but he's still fucking pissed over the shit she pulled with Wendy. Standing, he ignores the hurt that spreads across her face. "I got to go. Are you sticking around here?" At her nod, he tells her to keep him posted if she learns anything.

He's almost to the door when she calls out his name, stopping him in his tracks. "Are the boys at the daycare? Can I…can I see them?"

Opening the door, he turns to face her. "I don't think that would be a good idea right now…And don't get any fucking ideas about going around my back _again_." He glares pointedly at her. "I took you off the list." Before she can respond, he storms out and heads for the elevator.

Stalking off the elevator, Jax heads towards the hospital exit until - once again - someone calls his name. Whirling around, he finds himself face-to-face with the subject of his conversation with his mother.

"I don't think we've ever been formally introduced." The thin, brown-haired woman extends her hand. "Lieutenant Althea Jarry, head of the San Joaquin County Sheriff's Department."

* * *

"So the Sheriff and the DA think they can link you to some alleged shoot-out…All because they expect to find matching bullets in your friend and at the supposed crime scene?" Rosen leans forward, gazing probingly at Jax. "Are they going to find anything else besides bullets at the Mayan Clubhouse?"

After his rather brusque encounter with the new Sanwa Sheriff, Jax sped straight to Rosen's office. Although the Sheriff doesn't have shit on him, he worries if the suspicion's enough to get his parole revoked, even temporarily. He can't afford to leave his sons, can't afford to leave the search for Tara's killer to those bumbling fucks.

"I don't know." He runs an agitated hand through his hair. "There's zero proof that me and my guys were even there…but knowing Patterson, she'll find some way to twist this to fuck with me. You know she'll do whatever to put me back inside."

Rosen rubs his chin thoughtfully. "The Mayan Clubhouse is Stockton PD's jurisdiction, the sheriffs are only supposed to get involved if crimes spread outside of city limits, which apparently they're trying to do here by linking Nero to that scene. It's a stretch and could take some time to prove…time that they don't have. Unless they want to piss off the AG's office."

Frowning, Jax stares at him. "What do you mean?" He hasn't mentioned anything to Rosen about his interactions with Nick Reese; it's probably a dumbshit move keeping something like that from his lawyer, but since he still plans to end the arrogant prick, the fewer people who know about their connection, the better.

"Based on what I've heard, off-the-record, the AG's office has declared nailing Roosevelt's killer to be Sanwa County law enforcement's top priority; so if Nick Reese finds out that Patterson's spent one second snooping into something beyond that…well she won't have to worry about re-election, ever." Rosen shakes his head and sinks back into his chair. "No, I suspect the Sheriff's trying to rattle your cage, get you to slip up so they can lock you up without having to do any actual investigating. So stay away from them as much as possible; get in touch with me the second they approach you again. I don't want you to say a word around them without me there. Got it?"

Trying to smile but failing miserably, Jax nods and starts to rise until Rosen motions to sit. "What is it?" he asks tensely, dreading the odd look on Rosen's face; seriously, he can't deal with another fucking problem right now.

"I've received a few calls from some friends of yours…Colette Jane and Charles Barosky. Sound familiar?"

Jax drops back into his chair and stares at his lawyer in confusion. What the fuck would those two want with Rosen? "Yeah," he responds once the temporary surprise wears off. "Why the hell did they call you? I know that Colette got busted in a drug raid, but I can't imagine that's your kind of work anymore."

"Representing prostitutes has never been my line of work." Rosen scowls at him; apparently gun-runners and killers rate much higher than whores on the man's scale of scumbag hierarchy. "But your whore and her friend insist that you'd want me to represent her because you're business partners and because..."

Now it's Jax's turn to scowl. "She's not _my_ whore," he interrupts, snarling as gut-wrenching guilt pierces through him once again; that same painful, sickening guilt that'll torture him for the rest of his life. "You don't have to do a fucking thing for her; she's a goddamn drug dealer."

"…and because she claims to know something about Tara's murder…" Rosen continues quietly, as if knowing exactly how much that news would level Jax. "She claims not to have said anything to the cops because she wants me to work out a deal for her, using what she knows as leverage…"

Closing his eyes as the pounding in his head returns with a vengeance, Jax grips the chair arms tightly to keep from trashing Rosen's office in a rage. "When the fuck did she tell you this?" He hisses through gritted teeth.

"Yesterday. I called you right afterwards, left you a voicemail. Frankly that's why I thought you came here. Is she credible? If you want me to…"

"No," Jax snaps. "I'll go talk to her; find out what the hell she knows. And if she's dangling this just to get you to help her, so help me…"

Rosen shakes his head. "You can't go see her in County, Jax. You're a convicted felon on federal release; it's against policy for you to visit any inmate without clearance from either the Sheriff or the DA. And we don't want them getting wind of this before we know what she has to say…Seriously Jax, what's this woman to you besides a 'business partner'?"

Rising, Jax releases the chair arms and clenches his fists as rage and hate surges through him. "Nothing…she's nothing but a goddamn whore. Let her rot in jail." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out some folded papers and tosses them on to Rosen's desk. "You said you're good with family law…I need your help with that."

Perusing the documents, Rosen smiles for the first time since Jax charged into his office. "Piece of cake. Okay, I'll draft the papers and have them ready for you to sign day after tomorrow." The lawyer stands and extends his hand to Jax. "It's a good plan, Jax - Tara would've approved."

"Thank you." Jax shakes Rosen's hand. "Call me when the papers are ready. I'll deal with Colette." Ignoring the concern on the other man's face, he turns and calmly walks out the door. However, that calm disappears as he walks into the empty elevator, slamming his fist against the wall as the doors close.

* * *

Jesus Christ he needs a drink, Jax scrubs his hand across his face as he walks towards his bike; fuck, he needs the whole goddamn bottle. Instead he pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number, his face twisting with hate when the familiar, despised voice answers. "We need to talk. Same place. Now." He hangs up before hearing a response and jumps on his bike to ride towards the Charming cemetery.

_"This is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen." Snuggling against him as they lay by the campfire, she lifts her hand, admiring the sparkling diamonds and platinum band set off by the glowing firelight. "Maybe I shouldn't ask, but how were you able to pick out a ring like this while you were in Stockton?"_

_He nuzzles her neck, pressing soft kisses to her silky skin. "Actually I picked it out weeks before I went inside. Was going to ask you sooner, but…" Fuck, he doesn't want to go there; doesn't want to taint any part of this this night, this weekend or the rest of their lives with memories of him going batshit crazy._

_Completely understanding, she smiles and cups his face. "I'm just so thrilled to have it now."_

_Maybe he shouldn't ask, but he can't help himself. "If this is the most beautiful engagement ring you've ever seen, how many other marriage proposals have you had?" He masks his decade-old jealousy with a light, teasing tone, or so he hopes. It's been years since Kozik told him the story of Tara's other marriage proposal; he knows he's a fucking idiot to still be thinking about it, but part of him - hell, all of him - needs to know what that douchebag meant to her. He's never loved anyone like he loves her, not even close; he needs to know that it's been the same for her._

_"Actually I was talking about rings in general. But to answer your question, I've never owned another engagement ring." _

_She looks up at him curiously as if sensing his unease. "Something the matter?"_

_Feigning casual indifference, he shrugs then pulls her closer to him. "No, all's good. I guess I really don't know much about the life you had away from Charming." Except for Kohn - and Jax knows all he ever cares to know about that dead piece of shit._

_"Well I never married anyone else…unlike some people." She smiles impishly, tweaking his goatee._

_"I told you about that." He skims his thumb back and forth across her lower lip; Tara's always had the plumpest, pinkest, most kissable lips he'd ever seen. Unable to resist, he feeds her a slow, lingering kiss; pulling away slightly before he forgets what he wants to say. "It was a shit time of my life, Tara. You were gone, Ope was in Chino…" He brushes a dark lock of hair from her face. "I just really missed what you and I had. So I thought if my mom could find a second chance with Clay, then maybe I could, too. Wendy was a friend, and we had a good time - but it was a big fucking mistake. I never loved her, didn't even like her most of the time we were married. I was a shitty husband, and she couldn't lay off the drugs. But what really killed us was that she wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."_

_Catching him by surprise she rolls them so he's flat on his back while she lies on top of him - like their many, many yoga sessions; however, there's no teasing, saucy smile on her face this time. "I love you, Jax." She caresses his face with her soft hands, raining kisses on his lips. Then resting her chin on her folded arms, she looks off into the distance. "I missed what we had too, Baby. Mostly, I tried to stay busy with school - there was definitely a lot of that. I didn't sleep with 'hundreds' of guys." She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head. "Just a few… There was one guy I started dating when I was a sophomore; we were together for a few years, but…"_

_"Did you love him?" Dreading the answer, Jax fucking hates the insecurity he hears in his voice. Almost as much as he hates that nameless, faceless shitbag from her past._

_Now it's her turn to skim her fingers across his lips. "I told myself I did, he was a great guy. But in the end…he wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."_

_Smiling, he lifts her left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her engagement ring - squeezing her tightly against him with his free arm. She's mine, he vows fiercely; Tara belongs to him, like he's always belonged to her. After all the shit that's happened to keep them apart, they're still together because they're meant to be together._

_He gazes up at her, his pulse racing at the sight of those glowing green eyes and dazzling smile; the scenic backdrop of their special campsite and the sun setting behind Mt. Walker fade in comparison to his beautiful girl. But then everything does._

"_I think someone's awake...again." She giggles pressing closer to him, rubbing herself against his stiff cock. Jax savors the pleasure of that friction for a long moment before pulling her head down to his and devouring her mouth. Not that they've ever been models of restraint with each other, but - holy shit - ever since he got out of Stockton it's like high school again; his dick certainly acts like they're sex-crazed teens again._

_He shifts them so that they're side-by-side and face-to-face, giving him unfettered access to her gorgeous body - including those mouthwatering breasts, still larger and lusher than usual thanks to her recent pregnancy. "Remember when I could make you come just by sucking on these puppies?" He rubs her plump pink nipples with his thumbs before bending his head to stroke those rosy, swollen buds with long and slow and wet licks._

"_Since the last time was just this morning, then yes…oh yes…" Tara twines her arms around his neck, tunneling her fingers through his short, spiky hair; her breathing growing louder, choppier as he suckles her hungrily. "Oh god, Jax…Now, Baby, fuck me now…"_

_Unable and unwilling to resist (because he's not fucking crazy) - Jax drapes one of her long legs over his hip then presses his thumb against her clit, loving the feel of her shivering with excitement against him. "I love you, Tara…" He claims her mouth again, swallowing her screams as he massages her to orgasm. "More than anything."_

"_And I love you, Baby." She gasps breathlessly, caressing his face as she rubs her breasts against his chest until he cups a lush mound in his hand; stroking her still-hard, still-wet nipple with his fingers. "So much, Jax, so much…"_

_She's still quivering from release when he pushes his rigid cock into her soaking wet heat; Jax hisses with pleasure as she grinds against him, her hands gripping his ass as her throbbing inner muscles squeeze his dick like a sizzling hot vise._

_Mesmerized by her beautiful, radiant face he's suddenly unable to speak - not the first time he's gone tongue-tied by the sight and feel of her. Hugging her tight, he flexes his ass and shoves his cock even deeper, rocking and pulsating until he erupts inside of her - triggering the intense, fiery ecstasy engulfs them both._

_Pressing her even closer against him, he stares into those hypnotic green eyes and revels in the feel of her heart pounding in rhythm with his. __"I just love feeling your heart beating against mine." She said that to him for the first time on her sixteenth birthday and probably a hundred times since. He couldn't agree more._

* * *

Pacing the columbarium, Jax waits impatiently for Nick Reese to arrive; the prick's late - probably another fucking power play to show off his big dick. What a goddamn asshole.

He catches sight of the black SUV pulling into the cemetery parking lot and grits his teeth as he watches the shitbag emerge from the car. More than anything, Jax wants to murder the guy with his bare hands, but unfortunately he needs him - needs him to find Tara's killer, starting with getting access to Colette in prison.

Jax's eyes narrow as the fucker approaches him, hate surging through every cell in his body. Dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, Reese suddenly looks like the guy hugging and holding Tara in those college photos; Jax's hands ball into fists, fists that'll soon be slamming into the asshole's fucking face. Yeah, he needs Reese's help for now, but that doesn't mean he can't beat the shit out of the prick afterwards.

But before he can say or do anything, Reese's fist slams into his jaw knocking him backwards; another swift, powerful hook sends him crashing to the ground.

"You fucking, goddamn piece of shit." Reese stands over him, cold rage contorting his usually controlled expression. "You should've just stuck with your junkies and whores…you didn't deserve her…"

_You didn't deserve her._ It's nothing he hadn't said to himself a million times; probably why he'd been so scared of losing her. But it's one thing to torture himself with that fact, quite another to hear it from this pompous son-of-a-bitch. Scrambling to his feet, he watches Reese raise his fist again - this time Jax launches himself at the goddamn asshole, ready to unleash the jealous rage that's been festering inside him for over a decade.

Everything else can wait for now.


	13. Under the Weight of All the Awful Things

**Chapter 12: UNDER THE WEIGHT OF ALL THE AWFUL THINGS**

"_You got to have an Out…something to take you away from this shit, even for a little while. Else this shit will take YOU out."_

_Jarry can still hear Eli dispensing his advice, both of them sitting on his small boat on the San Joaquin River waiting to catch fish that she's convinced don't exist. They'd been working insane hours on a joint investigation between her Stockton PD organized crime unit and the Sanwa sheriffs when Eli suggested they take a break, which meant indulging in his third grand passion behind his job and his wife (not necessarily in that order) - trout fishing. It'd been the perfect temporary escape on a sunny spring day; although they didn't catch any damn fish, the short time away from the teeth-grinding frustration of that case gave them the renewed energy to push forward._

_Running's always been her Out; ever since she was a kid, she'd lace up her Nikes and hit the running trails to get away from shit going sideways in her life: her impossible-to-please career-military father, her pill-popping mother, her cheating (now ex-) husband. That said, running's also her way In; with the clarity that always seems to come on her long runs, she can really think about all the puzzle pieces - whether they actually fit together or just pile up into one goddamn mess._

_But pounding the dirt path of her running route, she's still struggling with the fact and fiction jumbling around Eli and Dr. Knowles' murders. After FINALLY receiving and reading the crime scene report, Jarry's knows it validates the gut feeling she'd had from the start - that the good doctor had been the intended victim and that Eli likely suffered the shit-sucking fate of wrong place/wrong time._

_However, what would this conclusion do to the Attorney General's mission to reinstate capital punishment to the California criminal justice system? The bloody execution of a decorated, well-respected county Sheriff in the home of a dangerous motorcycle gang president with a well-documented history of crime and violence…well that just has death penalty written all over it. Although the horrifying brutality of Tara Knowles' murder could sway some to put her killer on death row, but then some might say she made her own bed by embracing her husband's outlaw life. No, the path to judicial review had to start with cop killing - that's the backbone of the AG's case. But a good defense lawyer could argue that Eli's death was simple manslaughter; if he was killed stumbling onto the scene - instead of premeditated murder - that could be life in prison, not a lethal injection. Which makes Jarry wonder why the AG's top deputy's still quarterbacking this case if it can't be used to further their political ends. Nick Reese doesn't do shit without a greater purpose._

_Juice Ortiz and Gemma Teller…there's definitely something there, she can feel it. Even through the bitchy biker mama verified the twitchy biker's alibi, Jarry isn't buying the scripted perfection of their matching stories. Juice's definitely scared shitless about something, and despite her cold fuck-you attitude, so's Gemma. _

"_I don't know where you're going with all these questions, sweetheart," Gemma had seethed at her. "But you've heard that curiosity killed the cat…I'd hate to see anything happen to your nosy little pussy." Seemed like a rather extreme reaction to simple questions about the woman's whereabouts at the time of the murders - and her relationship with her son's late wife. Yeah, that definitely made Jarry curious. _

_But despite the prickling in her usually infallible cop instincts, Jarry can't quite connect these puzzle pieces - no doubt because she's missing a few critical ones. Yes, Juice could've harbored a violent grudge against Eli that resulted in the county Sheriff found shot to death on the Teller's kitchen floor. But what about Tara Knowles - why the hell would Juice savagely stab his boss' wife to death? Surely not on orders from his MC's President; one look at Teller and anyone could see the intense grief and rage burning in the man. Also Juice doesn't strike her as someone who'd deliberately provoke violent men like Jax Teller; no, guys like him follow orders, they don't know any other way. _

_But if Juice's involved, why would Gemma cover for the man who might've brutally murdered her daughter-in-law, destroying her son and his family in the process? Was it possible that the SAMCRO matriarch was just protecting one of her motorcycle boys?_

_And when talking to Teller, Jarry got the distinct impression that Gemma didn't tell him about the true nature of her oh-so-pleasant conversation with the county Sheriff; otherwise, Jarry would've thought the loyal son would've jumped down her throat for interrogating his mother about his wife's death. But no, he'd stonily warned Jarry to leave his mother alone - that Gemma wouldn't know shit about Nero's injury. Which meant Gemma had lied to her son that she'd been questioned about Nero. Definitely curious._

_Fuck, she could run all the way to Canada and still have shit. Dragging herself up her porch steps, she finally pulls out her phone to check all the texts and voicemails that she missed during her run. Her cop instincts surge again as she listens to Cane's message; Colette Jane doesn't have a verifiable alibi for the time of the murders._

* * *

During his non-traditional, borderline dysfunctional childhood Jax never really knew what it was like to hate. Quite the opposite, in fact; growing up as the much-loved son of JT and Gemma Teller and heir-apparent to the Presidency of the Sons of Anarchy, he'd been weaned on the importance of love and family, of loyalty and the bonds of brotherhood.

It wasn't until he was twelve-years-old that he first felt the burn of violent hate scorch through him; the night Opie told him that Tara's old man beat her up so bad that he nearly killed her. When he saw his battered friend and then recalled with horror all the times she'd shown up with fresh bruises and broken bones, claiming to have fallen off her bike or down the stairs…well it was the first time he honestly thought he could actually kill someone.

So for the longest time, Jax never hated anyone or anything more than fucking Frank Knowles; if it weren't for some interceding factors (mostly Tara), he probably would've shot the bastard dead a few hundred times. Then ATF Agent Josh Kohn brought his toxic self to Charming; Jax'd discovered a whole new level of hate for the sick fuck who'd terrorized and brutalized Tara - for the goddamn piece of shit who'd slept with the girl Jax loved more than anything, the girl who belonged only with him. To this day he doesn't regret killing that son-of-a-bitch, just that he didn't inflict more pain before blowing a big bloody hole into the fucker's head.

He won't be making that mistake twice…Slamming his fist into Nick Reese's ribs, Jax sneers with satisfaction as the other man grunts in pain. Unlike Frank Knowles and Josh Kohn, Reese might not have ever physically hurt Tara - but Jax hates this fucking prick more than anything ever in his life.

As if to fuel his volcanic rage, images from that goddamn photo album continue to sear his brain - of Tara smiling and laughing with this asshole, letting him hold her and kiss her. Son-of-a-goddamn-bitch. Jax had wallowed in hell after she left him for college, and this prick - this goddamn motherfucking prick - stole the years Jax should've had with her. Growling with renewed outrage, he hurls Reese into the cement wall; then to ensure that sore ribs and a bloody cut on the pretty boy's face aren't his only injuries, Jax charges again.

But Reese recovers quickly, stopping Jax with a swift, precise and brutal kick to the knees that brings him crashing to the ground again. Christ, the prick knows martial arts. Gasping for breath, he closes his eyes as sharp pain momentarily overwhelms him.

"…_we were together for a few years…"  
_"_Did you love him?"  
_"_I told myself I did, he was a great guy."_

"'Great guy' my ass…" Jax mutters to himself, managing to roll away in time to avoid a vicious kick to his ribs…goddamn asshole. Two can play this fucker's game; he sweeps his legs to hook Reese and send him falling backwards. Before the other man can recover, Jax lunges for him; attacking with every ounce of fury inside him. To hell with needing this man's help; Jax wants to kill him now…

He doesn't know how long they pound the shit out of each other; so much anger, so much hate between them - all because of the intense love for the same woman…the same woman they'd both lost for good. Despite the hot rage burning through him, Jax fully gets why the other man hates him so much. Shit, it's nothing compared to the near-debilitating self-hatred that's been eating him alive since he found Tara's bloody body on their kitchen floor.

However, any mutual understanding fucking ends there as Jax head-butts Reese's surely-bruised (and hopefully broken) ribs, slamming him to the ground so he can drive his fists into the smug asshole's goddamn face. Unfortunately, Reese's no man's passive punching bag; the fucker manages to block the blow, bucking hard to throw Jax off-balance before driving a double-fisted hammer strike to Jax's chest.

Stunned, Jax doubles over as pain instantly radiates from his chest to torch his whole body. Holy fucking shit. Gasping for breath, he opens his non-swollen eye to watch Reese struggle to his knees only to collapse onto his back. For several long seconds both men remain silent and motionless, their bloody and banged-up bodies mutely agreeing to a much needed time-out.

"Do you have any idea how many neonatal surgeons there are?" Reese breaks the silence, apparently determined to crush Jax with both his fists and his words. Not bothering to wait for Jax's answer (a good thing because he doesn't have the first fucking clue), Reese turns to glower at him. "Less than 1% of all the doctors in the country could do what Tara did…Hell, I bet you didn't know that she got the highest score in the state on her surgical board exams…while knocked up with your kid. Guess that's not exactly good prison visit talk…"

"_What is it?" Concern fills those beautiful green eyes that know him so well._

_Jax glances down at his two-month-old baby son sleeping in his arms then back up to the love of his life, who'd just finished telling him about her first week back to work from maternity leave - her first week as a bona fide surgical specialist. Whose baby daddy's stuck in prison on a federal gun charge. Not for the first time, he wonders what the hell she sees in him and worries about the day she realizes she could do so much better than a convicted felon without a legitimate cent to his name._

"_Nothing…" He pastes a smile on his face for her and for Abel, who's perched on her lap staring at him curiously._

_She cups his face in her hand then leans in to kiss him softly. "I love you so much, Jax." She beams a dazzling smile at him and Thomas while hugging Abel closer. "You've given me everything I've always wanted. Just a few more months, Baby, and you'll be home with us…then it'll be perfect."_

_He pulls her hand from his cheek and brings it to his lips. Yes, once he gets out of this fucking hell hole and back home to his family, everything's going to change. He'll finally make the choice he should've made twelve years ago; leave Charming for a better life and finally, finally become the man worthy of her. Then it'll be perfect._

Jax swallows hard, although it stings his jaw to do it, as he struggles for control…he can't lose his shit in front of Reese, that motherfucking prick. Focusing on the bastard's words, he realizes that although Tara told him she passed her boards, she never told him she set some kind of record. Which was just like her; ever since high school, she never really talked about her accomplishments - just rolled up her sleeves and made the magic happen.

Scowling at Reese, he wonders how the fuck this shithead knows so much. "What's your goddamn point? It's really pathetic that you've been keeping such close tabs on another man's wife. Tara dumped your ass, remember? Yeah, I know exactly who you are…" Holy shit it felt good to say that out loud, even better to watch Reese pretend not to flinch; now if he could only erase all the years this prick spent with his girl.

"I got to hand it to you, Teller." Ignoring the question, Reese glares at him with undisguised loathing. "When you destroy someone, you go all out…It wasn't enough that you dragged her down into this cesspool life of yours…Hell no, thanks to you, she lost her career, her freedom and…" Jax watches as the other man's face contorts with the rage and pain that he's seen in his own reflection. "Do you ever wonder what those last minutes must've been like for her, Teller? Do you? I can't seem to stop thinking about it."

"_She didn't die easily you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive…I hate thinking of what she must've suffered those last few minutes of her life - so much fear, so much pain…"_

Recalling Reese's words to him just a few days ago in this very spot, Jax closes his eyes as his agonizing grief returns with a vengeance. No, he can't stop thinking about it either. Yet another reason why he'd needed his friends - Jack, Jameson and Wild Turkey to get any kind of sleep at night.

"But then you probably had your whore to keep you busy," Reese sneers bitterly, the loathing back on his face in full force. "Yeah, and I know exactly what you are…Was this some kind of sick little game for you, Teller? See how much you could really hurt her while you ruined her life? Jesus Christ, you are really something…fucking that dirty old cunt while Tara's in jail for helping your goddamn ass and then again right in front of her face."

Breathing heavily, Jax sits up slowly, trying to gather enough energy to launch himself at Reese and beat the goddamn prick to death. Although he can't deny his own disgust over his bat-shit stupid behavior or how the staggering weight of his guilt and shame and regret threaten to crush him daily, he fucking doesn't need to hear it from this sanctimonious prick - doesn't need to hear Reese's not-so-subtle allegation that Tara would be alive and well if it weren't for him.

Tara. Remembering what he has to do to avenge her before taking his family out of Charming for good, Jax tries to calm his murderous impulse to pulverize Reese into a bloody pile of dog meat.

"I need you to get me into County to see Colette Jane. Off the radar." He stares coldly at Reese, noting with some satisfaction the blood and bruises on the other man's face and the protective way he cradles his obviously sore ribs. I hope they're broken you asshole son-of-a-bitch, Jax muses viciously.

Reese's expression twists with angry disbelief at Jax's words. "Yeah, I had your whore locked up; it's where she belongs - with the rest of society's waste. You're out of your fucking mind if you plan to use me to help her….Or are you looking for a conjugal?" Reese spits out that last word, leveling him a look of such profound disgust that Jax almost winces.

"She's not _my_ whore," he snaps, glaring at Reese. "Look asshole, I made mistakes - goddamn stupid mistakes that I'm not proud of, that I'd take back in a heartbeat if I could…but, unlike you, I can't dwell on my shortcomings right now…There's a chance that Colette knows something about what happened to Tara; it's probably bullshit to get from out of this drug charge, but I can't afford to ignore it." Slowly rising to his feet, Jax holds on to the wall for support - goddamn it, his ribs ache too. "If you really give a shit about what happened to Tara, you'll help me with this. Or you can keep jerking yourself off, playing these stupid fucking mind games with me."

Reese flashes him a look of hate so intense, Jax almost feels he's staring into a mirror; then clambering to his feet, the pompous fucker sways slightly, grimacing in pain before training those frosty blue eyes back to Jax. "What does she know? I swear Teller…if this bitch you brought into Tara's life had anything to do with…"

"I don't know what she knows," Jax interrupts running a bruised hand through his disheveled hair. "That's why I need to talk to her. And believe me if she's involved…well, I'll take care of it." Renewed rage vibrates throughout him, the hunt's back on again.

Nodding grimly, Reese straightens his rumpled and bloody shirt, looking once again like the state's celebrated golden boy - albeit a bit battered. "I'll make it happen…Wait for my call." Shooting Jax one more scathing glare, the man who once meant something to Tara turns to walk towards his car.

"Reese!" Jax calls after him, unable to suppress the questions plaguing him since finding out the truth about Tara's past with the enigmatic lawyer. "What do you get out of this? You know if anyone finds out what you've been doing, your career's fucking over."

The other man stops in his tracks then turns slowly to face Jax once again. Jamming his hands into his pockets, Reese gives him a long, measuring look as if trying to decide what exactly to divulge. "You broke into my house…took a souvenir - don't worry, I have copies - so you know about me and Tara. But do you know we have more than her in common? Like you, Teller, I also grew up with my path mapped out for me. Great-grandson and grandson of two former Governors, son of an aspiring Governor…politics was in my blood like motorcycle oil's in yours. And I was ready to follow that path…until my first year at Stanford, I went to visit a friend at UCSD and met Tara…."

Jax watches with both dread and fascination as the coldness vanishes from Reese's eyes, replaced by a warm affection that Jax hadn't thought possible. "I wanted to marry her after that first night…even though she made it clear that she didn't want anything serious, I transferred from the school where all of my family's gone for over a century to one hundreds of miles away that's world-renowned for science and medicine - two things that have never interested me a day in my life. But I would've done anything to be with her." Pausing, Reese stares out at the cemetery - at the rows of graves, as if trying to find her. "Those years with her were the best in my life…I'm sure you can understand. Even when she wouldn't marry me, I held on…Did you know I moved to Chicago with her?"

Clenching his fist, Jax shakes his head; Christ, listening to another man talk about his love for Tara hurt worse than he'd ever imagined, especially hearing that Reese had made the choice that Jax refused, twice - however, he can't stop himself from wanting to hear what the other man has to say.

"Yeah, I did a whole year of law school in Chicago…I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack or disown me or both, especially when I'd tell her that Northwestern wasn't that far behind Stanford in the rankings. God she hated Tara, blamed her for leading me 'astray' - but I didn't care because Tara and I were happy. So happy until…"

No way, no fucking way that Tara had been happy with this asshole. Jax rejects the idea totally, desperately clinging to the belief that neither of them could be truly happy without each other; he just knows that Tara needed him, just as badly as he needed and still needs her. His fingers twitch, itching to grab his gun and shoot Reese dead before he can spew more lies about Tara living happily with him; instead he stands frozen as Reese finishes his story.

"…we got the news that my dad died…that he'd been fucking assassinated at a fundraiser - gunned down surrounded by cops and security." Reese scrubs his bruised face with a shaking hand; Jax realizes with morbid clarity that Reese still hasn't recovered from his father's murder any more than Jax has - neither of them could divert from their fathers' legacies, no matter what it cost them. Holy fuck, they really do have more in common than the love for the same woman.

"I had to go back to California…My brother and I…we were the only ones our mother had left, the only ones to take up our father's mantel…I begged Tara to come with me, but she didn't want to leave her program at Feinberg - of course, my brilliant girlfriend was on a fast track to an accelerated internship…something she probably wouldn't have had starting over at Stanford Med. But back then, I couldn't understand…So I gave her an ultimatum: marry me and move back to California or we were done. It was the probably the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life…I never saw her alive again."

It's ridiculous, given all of this happened so long ago, but Jax bristles as Reese refers to Tara _his_ girlfriend; the searing jealousy and resentment that rocked him after seeing the photos of Tara with this guy intensifies after hearing Reese's account of what sounded like a happy and healthy relationship.

Taking a deep breath, Jax once again struggles to control the impulse to shoot this son-of-a-bitch dead right there; summoning Bobby's words the night they broke into Reese's house, he manages to calm down. _"Take a look at that wedding ring on your finger, Jax. Tara married you…not him…He may have had her for a little while, but she came back to you. Don't ever forget that."_

"So to answer your question…what do I get out of this? I think we both want to find whoever murdered Tara and make sure that fucking monster gets the justice he - or she - deserves." All warmth disappears from Reese's face as his usual icy cold expression returns. "As for my career…it's very thoughtful of you to be so concerned. Ironic, too. For the past year, I've been in Washington, DC arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court to re-establish capital punishment in California…time well spent, we were successful in getting the death penalty applied to murder of law enforcement personnel and witnesses to capital crimes…I got back home just in time to find out about Tara."

Reese's blue eyes glitter with satisfaction and a hint of madness. "Cards on the table, Teller. I'll help you find her murderer, help you put that animal down…and then I'm going to nail you for killing Eli Roosevelt, a decorated county Sheriff and witness to Tara's murder; once you're convicted, I'm going to have a front row seat when the state jabs a needle into your arm."

Jesus Christ, what a warped fucking mind; first Kohn, now this twisted asshole - how the fuck did Tara find these guys? Although momentarily stunned, Jax recovers quickly then strides over to stand eye-to-eye with the man who just promised him a seat on death row. As he said before, two can play this fucker's game.

"Well then I'm just going to have to kill you before we get that far, won't I?" Bunching his fist, Jax slams an uppercut across the Reese's jaw, smirking as the prick stumbles backward and lands hard on the ground. "Call me when you set the meet with Colette. We need to do this tonight."

Flashing Reese one last glare, Jax can't resist jabbing a white sneaker into the bastard's sore ribs; savoring the asshole's grunts of pain, he turns to walk back to his bike.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby eyes him up and down as Jax walks into the ice cream shop, the question and the sight of Jax's battered face draw his other Brothers to flock around him.

He waves them off and lights a cigarette. "I'm fine - you should see the other guy…Is Alvarez here?" He'd seen some of the Mayans' bikes parked outside, but there's none of them immediately in sight.

"They're out back; Taco Nation internal meeting," Happy answers, handing him a cold beer - either to drink or hold against his swollen cheek. Jax opts for both.

"I'm hoping 'the other guy' isn't who I think it is…" Chibs shakes his head. "Jackie, you don't want to be messin' with him because you're pissed he knew Tara. Not now with all this shit going down with the Mayans and the Irish. Nero…"

Jax ignores the knowing look that passes between Chibs, Bobby and Tig; he doesn't need any kind of fucking lecture right now. "How is he? I heard this morning that he'd be in surgery for hours."

"Gemma said that he made it out of surgery, but they won't tell her shit beyond that. Hell nobody'll tell us a damn thing," Tig grouses. "Thought Alvarez was going to burn the place down when he found out they won't spill dick on Nero. I told him he should get one of his little brown amigos to pretend to be Nero's family so we can get intel. He just sent Pedro or Paco or some Spanish speaking homie to St. Thomas, we should find out something soon."

The small Mayan posse choose that time to make an entrance; the men cast lingering looks at Jax's bruised face but say nothing, no doubt used to the violence that can erupt so sporadically in their lives. After greeting all of the men, Jax updates everyone on his talks with the Irish and with Marco DeNotti, the mob's money man, who'd offered the Irish the incentive to turn the gun distribution over to the Mayans.

A wide grin spreads across Alvarez's face as he grips Jax's shoulder in gratitude. "I think this calls for a drink in celebration…Juan…" He motions to another man who pulls open a bag full of carefully wrapped bottles of premium tequila, drawing a roar of appreciation from the SAMCRO members and Chucky, who starts lining up shot glasses.

Side-stepping the rush to the bar, Jax pulls Alvarez aside. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Alvarez nods then follows Jax out the front door.

Lighting up another cigarette, Jax studies the Mayan President for a moment. "You ever had to take care of business in the pussy side of County?"

Now it's Alvarez's turn to stare at Jax; taking a long drag of his cigarette, he exhales a cloud of smoke before nodding slowly. "I might have some contacts there. Would take a day or two to nail it down."

Too long; Jax shakes his head. "It's got to be quick, man."

Alvarez gives Jax a long, considering look before nodding again. "Ok, I'll make some calls now." Then turning, he walks back inside the building. Jax takes another long drag, exhales then starts towards the door before he hears someone yelling his name.

Whirling around, Jax spots an angry Barosky heading his way. Christ, he really doesn't want to deal with this guy now. "What do you need, Charlie? Sorry I haven't had a chance to call you back. If you haven't heard, my wife was murdered, so I have a few things on my plate right now."

"That goddamn pussy Sheriff raided Diosa." Barosky ignores Jax, so focused on his own rage. "Locked up Colette on bullshit drug charges. It's only a matter of time before they connect it to us. You got to tell your lawyer to get her off."

Jax studies the other man closely; the shady ex-cop looks more agitated than Jax's ever seen him. No doubt because he's involved to the hilt with the drugs the sheriffs seized in Colette's bedroom. Jax actually wants to kill them both for not telling him about their little side-business; he never would've gotten involved with them if he knew. Maybe it was their intent all along to scapegoat SAMCRO if they ever got caught. Well that won't be fucking happening.

"I'd think someone in her profession would have a lawyer on retainer." Jax drawls taking another drag, knowing his nonchalance would only enrage Barosky further. Good. The asshole should squirm.

Barosky shakes his head franticly. "That guy's small time; never worked outside of night court. No, we need your guy. Everybody knows Rosen's bullet proof when it comes to shit like this. You got to talk to him, Jax. Tell him to take Colette's case."

Jax flashes him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes or warm the coldness in his veins. "I already did. Rosie'll go see Colette tomorrow." Dropping the cigarette butt to the ground, Jax stubs it out with his shoe then clamps his hand on Barosky's shoulder. "I got to go and pick my kids up from daycare now. I'll be touch. Don't worry, I'll take care of Colette."

* * *

**AN for readers who are sticklers for canon: in S1, SOA writers referenced two different medical schools for Tara - Kohn had her transcript from Feinberg Medical School (which is Northwestern University) and Stahl mentioned that Tara graduated from Loyola Med at the top of her class. Both are outstanding medical schools, but for this story, I stuck with Feinberg because it works better with Reese going to law school at Northwestern (which is a top law school).**


	14. The Only Feeling That Makes Sense

**Chapter 13: THE ONLY FEELING THAT MAKES SENSE**

_"Well that was time well spent..." Jarry mutters as she and Cane walk out of the interrogation room after a totally useless half hour spent trying to break a defiantly silent Colette Jane. The blonde madam didn't bat an eye when confronted with the sworn statements from some of Diosa's working girls and patrons that pretty much shot to hell her earlier claim that she never left Diosa the day someone savagely murdered her "business partner's" wife. She just crossed her arms and clamped her mouth shut, a frosty fuck-you glare pasted on her face._

_Not that Jarry's too surprised; when they initially tried to question Diosa's head hooker about the drugs found in her bedroom, Colette coldly informed them that she wasn't saying shit without her lawyer present - some nameless, faceless attorney who didn't bother to show for the woman's bail hearing. Not that it mattered; given the longtime whore's rather extensive arrest record, not to mention the eye-popping amount of drugs seized from her possession, the arraignment judge didn't hesitate to remand the trick-turning-drug-dealer to the custody of Sanwa County corrections. Where it looks like she'll be stuck until making the potentially permanent move to the women's prison in Chowchilla - unless her phantom lawyer actually shows and pulls off some major miracle._

_Pulling out her phone to call Patterson with an update, a smile spreads across Jarry's face as she finds and listens to the message left on her voicemail. "Hello Lieutenant Jarry, this is US Attorney Lincoln Potter returning your call…"_

* * *

"_Did you mean it?" Sitting across his lap, Tara strokes his face, her green eyes solemn but hopeful. "You really want to marry me?"_

_Tightening his arms around her, Jax presses a slow kiss to those plump lips. He hadn't actually planned to propose to her - hell, he just turned sixteen yesterday; just something about showing her the chapel, talking about one day taking over his old man's seat at the head of the table, and he couldn't resist telling her the rest of the vision he wants for his future - marrying the one girl who's made his heart pound since they were little kids. He may not have known he loved her back then, but he's pretty fucking sure he knows it now._

"_Yeah." He tucks a glossy lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I love you, Tara. I just know we're supposed to be together…I can't imagine being with anyone else." Before her, he'd had his share of pussy and nothing and no one brought him even remotely close to the highs he felt just holding her hand._

_She strokes his lower lip with her thumb, beaming the smile that's never failed to spike his pulse. "I love you too, Baby. I don't want to be with anyone else either."_

_Growling, he gives her a playful squeeze. "You'd better not. I don't share, Babe. Not even a little." Sliding his hand down her bare arms to squeeze a silky thigh under her cut-offs, he finds her lips again. Christ, just kissing her stupefies him to the point he can't remember his own fucking name; especially when she squirms against his hardening cock and presses her lush breasts against his chest._

_After several long hot minutes, he buries his face in her soft neck to catch his breath. "Let's get out of here…I want another birthday present." Last night, after months of waiting patiently, he finally got access to the place where his dick's been dying to go for almost a year…inside one luscious Tara Grace Knowles. And since it's been hours since they fucked each other senseless, he's about to lose his goddamn mind if doesn't get some quality naked time with his girl soon. Climbing up here on the roof to be alone with her wasn't nearly enough._

"_Can we?" Tara quirks a perfect brow as she looks down at the reveling party guests; members of all the SOA charters who'd ridden all the way here to watch their founder's only son receive his cut and Prospect patch. "Your mother will kill you…and me."_

"_I'll deal with my mother." He flashes her a cocky grin. "Although one day, she'll be your mother, too. Because one I am going to marry you, Tara. That's a promise."_

_Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she gazes into his eyes with an intensity that melts his bones. "I love you more than anything, Jax. And I can't wait to marry you."_

"That's right…she married me, you goddamn prick…Me..." He glares at the old photo of Nick Reese, fucking hating the smug grin pasted on the guy's asshole face and the arm draped around the girl who would always, always belong to Jax. Looking up, his gaze deliberately turns to the framed picture of him and Tara taken right after their impromptu wedding; despite the fucked-up craziness that happened that day, it'd been one of his best days ever - finally making good on the promise he made as a sixteen-year-old kid to marry the love of his life.

After the brief confrontation with Barosky, he told his Brothers he had to leave to pick up his boys - reminding Chucky and Rat that he'd need their services later. Stopping home to pick up Tara's SUV, he realized that he probably should clean off the blood on his face and change clothes before showing up at St. Thomas looking like some street brawling thug. He'd been about to leave when he got distracted by the fucking photo album he stole from Reese.

Ripping the photo in two, he drops the half with Tara into the redwood box while crushing the pretty boy's image in his fist. The crazy bastard's as fucked up as Kohn if he thinks Jax'll bend over and take whatever the guy plans to shove up his ass. Kohn had wanted to destroy him and SAMCRO as part of some delusional plan to win Tara back, and now Reese intends to railroad Jax on to death row in a crazy-ass attempt to avenge her. It probably didn't occur to either shithead that Tara wouldn't have wanted any of those things to happen.

"She loves me, you sick fuck..." Repeating the same words he muttered to a dead Josh Kohn right before he set the son-of-a-bitch's corpse on fire, Jax flicks his lighter and torches the ripped and crumpled photos of Nick Reese; a grim sneer on his face as he watches the flames eat away at the images of California's golden boy. One day real soon, maybe he'll get to set fire to the real fucking thing.

The buzz on his phone interrupts his murderous reverie; pulling it out of his pocket, he looks down at the text flashing on the screen.

"Meet you at St. Thomas. Chapel. 15 minutes."

* * *

After their last meeting in Rosen's office, Jax didn't figure he'd ever see Ally Lowen again. Hell, he'd been surprised she showed up in person to read Tara's will - given that he more or less threatened her life the last time they saw each other. For the most part he'd been able to keep his cool, despite the sharp pain that stabbed at him hearing everything Tara'd done to ensure that their sons would have choices, even after her death - then he pretty much lost his fucking mind when Lowen told him about Tara's intent to donate her body to her medical school. So once again, Lowen had scurried away from him in fear of his violent temper.

But apparently, like Tara's will, Lowen must think what she has to tell him is important enough to swallow her fear. She'd left him a message yesterday that they needed to talk, and then after some phone tag, she finally sent him a text saying that she could meet at St. Thomas before he picked up his boys. It doesn't escape him that she'd picked a busy, public place where he'd be mindful of his behavior instead of meeting alone at his house or at her new office; whatever she has to say, she must not trust him not to go completely apeshit. Not a good sign.

Opening the door to the chapel, he can see it's empty as usual; seems that the only people he's ever seen here have been his mother and Tara. Sliding into a pew, he tries in vain not to think about the emotional confrontation he'd had with Tara in this room after he'd returned from Ireland to rescue her from that fucking prick, Salazar. Christ, he'd nearly dropped to his knees begging her to forgive his mind-numbing stupidity, not to mention his cruel betrayal with Ima. Somehow he'd gotten the miracle he needed, and she'd taken him back - although vowing that they'd be finished if he cheated on her again. And he swore he never would.

Holy fuck…Jax rubs his eyes, desperately trying to erase the memory of Tara's pain-filled face after catching him screwing Colette. Of all the goddamn mistakes he's made in his life, touching that foul whore had to be right up at the top - next to marrying Wendy and banging Ima to get Tara to leave him. Shit, his taste in women sucked beyond words…except for Tara. Which is probably why he'd always been so desperate to hang on to her.

Despite all the fucking awful shit that happened to tear the two of them apart, somehow their intense love for each other had prevailed; during those blissful, unforgettable hours with her in that motel room, she'd promised she'd wait for him, promised that someday they'd be together again - because, like he's always told her, they're supposed to be together.

But then fate had slammed him hard with the cruelest of hammers, viciously robbing him of the one chance he had to ever be truly happy. Clutching his head in his hand, he struggles to control the choking grief that threatens to consume him once again.

"Jax?" His head snaps up at the sound of Lowen tentatively calling his name. "Are you okay?" Despite the concern in her voice, Jax can see the tension in her shoulders and the wariness in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He wipes his eyes, wincing as he forgets the swelling bruise next to his left eye. Goddamn Nick Reese. He motions for her to take a seat in one of the pews in front of him - fuck knows she'd never get close enough to sit next to him.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, but I really think you should know what you're ex-wife is trying to do."

"Wendy? What are you talking about?" Of all the things that Lowen could've possibly flagged as a problem, he wouldn't have guessed Wendy. What trouble was that fucking junkie stirring up now?

Sitting down in the pew directly in front of him, Lowen pulls some papers out of her bag and gives them to Jax - who immediately recognizes the guardianship document that Tara had asked him to sign, granting custody of their boys to Wendy should anything happen to either of them. Papers with the word "VOID" stamped in red ink on every page.

"Wendy contacted me yesterday morning, demanding these papers. She said that with Tara dead, Abel needed to be with her - with his real mother."

Stunned, Jax stares at her. "What? Didn't she know we changed our minds? There's no fucking way I want that junkie bitch near my sons." He thrusts the papers back at her. "Besides, I've already made other arrangements - someone Tara would've wanted. Rosen's taking care of it."

Lowen nods, shooting him a tight smile. "That's good. But this might not go away quickly, Jax. I did tell Wendy that Tara rescinded the guardianship, that I voided the papers myself. Since I never thought it was a good idea to trust the boys' care to someone so… unpredictable, I told Wendy right after it happened."

Jax wrinkles his brows in confusion. "If Wendy knew the papers were void, why the hell would she think having them would help her case for custody?"

Lowen glances down at the papers before meeting his probing stare. "Wendy told me that she talked to Tara right before she died…that Tara changed her mind and wanted the papers re-filed. She said that Tara was afraid that, with you in prison, there would be no one to take care of the boys if something happened to her. And she didn't want them anywhere near Gemma."

Something sounds really fucked-up with this story; knowing his ex, it was probably complete bullshit. Tara had planned to take the WitPro deal to protect the boys; only when he decided finally to take responsibility and turn himself into the DA did she choose to stop running. So when would she have talked to Wendy?

_"Sure you don't want to come back with me? We can see the boys together; have some family time." He walks her to her SUV, carrying her bags. More than anything he wants to stay in that motel room with her, but after a blissful afternoon spent in her arms, there's now the grim reality that he's only got a couple hours of freedom before he has to surrender himself to Patterson. And he's still got to break the news to his Brothers and Gemma before he can spend the rest of the time with his boys._

_She unlocks her car doors so that he can load her bags, then wraps her arms around his waist. "There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you. I can pick them up later." Smiling softly, she strokes his goatee. "Besides, you need time alone with your sons. They missed you."_

Was meeting Wendy that thing she need to do before going back to the house? If so, why the rush? The deal he'd agreed to make with the DA would've exonerated Tara completely, she wouldn't have had to worry about getting separated from the boys. Anyway, it's fucking moot. There's no goddamn way he'd ever sign those guardianship papers again.

Lowen must've guessed what he was thinking, because she pulls some folded papers out of her bag; these he'd never seen before – yellow notebook paper covered in what looked like Tara's handwriting. "Wendy knew I had these…" Signing resignedly, she unfolds the pages. "You have to understand how desperate Tara was…She honestly thought she'd be sent back to prison after her trial…And based on how it went for her at County, she wouldn't have survived for very long."

Jax swallows hard as the pain and guilt savage him again, especially knowing from the last letter Tara had written him that she truly intended to die in prison ..._once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again._

"She was terrified for the boys - which is why she came up with that plan to get them away from Gemma…and from you. Tara really loved you, Jax. You can't ever doubt that. But she stopped believing that you wanted a different life for Abel and Thomas, a better one without all this…shit." SAMCRO's former lawyer glares at the President's patch on his cut.

Lowen extends the papers to Jax, who takes them almost reluctantly, curling his fingers tightly around the pages. "So she put these together…notes about you and the Club. There's nothing that the Sheriff or the DA could ever use against you or SAMCRO…Tara never wanted that. But after reading his, no family judge would ever see you as a viable guardian to young children; you'd never get custody of the boys if faced with a legal challenge." She swipes at the tears threatening to spill down her face. "She didn't want them to end up like her, or Opie, or you…accepting violence and murder as a way of life, dying in prison…You know she didn't want this life for them."

"Neither do I," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to get my boys out of here, Ally...I promised Tara, and I won't let her down." Flipping through the pages, he stares at her grimly. "So Wendy knows about all these? Wants you to turn them over so she can take my boys away from me?"

His former lawyer remains silent for a long moment, looking down at her hands. "Wendy only wants Abel. Not Thomas. She doesn't think she can take care of both boys." There's no mistaking the disgust in her voice. "That selfish bitch doesn't give a damn about breaking up brothers…especially after what those boys have been through…"

"Well, it's never going to fucking come to that," he assures her, gritting his teeth to keep his temper in check as he shoves the papers into his sweatshirt pocket. "So this is everything?"

Lowen glances up at him, her eyes guarded. "Most of them. The more…controversial…pages are with Rosen." She must've read the lack of surprise on his face. "We were partners for ten years, and he's always been real careful about what he tells me - attorney-client privilege and all that - but I believe you know who hired him to help you…Even though I assured her that you'd be safe from anything she'd written, she wanted to be sure. Hell, it wasn't easy, Rosie was done with SAMCRO, on to bigger fish and all…but Tara somehow managed to convince him. I think he's always had a soft spot for her."

More like a hard spot, Jax grouses to himself. "So what's Wendy's play now? There's no goddamn way I'm signing any new papers…and she won't be getting a hold of any of this shit about me and my Club."

"Hard to say…The fact she's a known drug addict who's be in and out of rehab more times than anyone can count doesn't help her case. But then she's still Abel's biological mother so she might have some standing now that Tara's gone. Especially if she can prove that Tara had intended to turn custodial rights over to her. If she gets the right judge, she might be able to use the old document and argue that Tara changed her mind about voiding it before she died."

Cold rage spreads through him at the thought of that foul junkie bitch using Tara's death to weasel her way into Abel's life. "I'll handle Wendy. She won't be a problem. Ever again."

* * *

"Mama!" Thomas bounces up and down excitedly on his Jax's lap, trying with all his might to snatch the photo from his Daddy's hand.

Grinning proudly, Jax kisses the top of his baby boy's silky blond head. Definitely Tara's son, Thomas had started talking early - boasting a short but impressive vocabulary by the time he was eight months old. "Yes, that's Mommy," he croons, letting Thomas touch the photo but holding it far it enough away so those chubby fingers don't mangle it in his eagerness.

Jax can certainly understand what's drawing his youngest son's enthusiasm; taken at Opie and Lyla's wedding, the photo's one of Jax's favorites - a candid close-up shot of radiant a Tara flashing her dazzling smile at someone off camera. Staring at the glossy picture, he can't help but smile himself despite the bittersweet pang squeezing his guts. Jesus, she was exceptionally gorgeous that night; maybe it was the high of freedom after fourteen months in state prison or the blissful afterglow of finally getting engaged to the love of his life, but he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her for a second (except when he and his Brothers had to take out Putlova and the rest of those Commie goons).

"I like this one." Abel pipes up, pointing at one of the photos he'd lined up in rows. "And this one…and this one…"

Arriving at the daycare, he'd barely hugged his boys hello before Abel pounced on him about his promise that they could look at more pictures from the wood box tonight - and continued to pelt reminders on the ride home, through dinner and bath time until Jax finally brought both boys to his room where the redwood box was waiting for them.

His throat tightens as he scans his oldest son's growing collection of favorites; each one featuring Abel with his Mommy - each one clearly reflecting how much Tara absolutely adored her little boy.

"…and this one - it's funny. Look Daddy!" Tearing his eyes from a snapshot of pregnant, misty-eyed Tara beaming proudly during Abel's first birthday party, Jax glances at the photo Abel's waving in his face and grows misty-eyed himself.

"_You want to tell me what's wrong?" Tara props herself up on her elbow to study him; despite her dark sunglasses, he can feel those green eyes boring a hole into him. Fuck, he'd wanted to spend the unseasonably hot day at the lake with her and his friends, trying to forget the shit coiling inside him since the fight with his mother a few days ago. Everyone else either stayed away from him or shrugged off his bad temper, not his sweet little Tara - the only badass brave enough to deal with him during one of his "moods."_

_Rolling to his side, he caresses the pale, silky smooth skin bared by the dick-hardening bikini he loves so much. "Eighty degrees in November, skipping school with you…" He tugs her close to him. "What could possibly be wrong?"_

_Tara pulls off her glasses to peer into his eyes. "You've been snapping at everyone for almost a week." She quirks a perfectly arched brow then strokes his cheek with her soft hand. "I know what today is, Jax." _

_He closes his eyes to avoid the knowing compassion on her face; there's no fucking way he wants to break down here in front of her or the handful of people milling around, playing hooky from school or work. Yeah, she would know that a year ago, just a short year ago, that Jax's dad had breathed his last. Most thought JT pretty much died when the semi slammed into him a couple of days before, but Jax'll never forget the sounds of the hospital monitor flatlining above his dad's broken body or his mother's and Piney's cries of grief._

_Not that Gemma's grieving anymore; Jax'd been outraged when he'd learned about her weekend getaway plans with Clay - the man he'd caught her fucking just a week after JT's funeral ("her way of dealing with the grief" was the bullshit she'd fed him). So riddled with his own grief and anger, Jax'd taken his temper out on everyone - and everyone had taken it, choosing to treat him like glass instead of calling him out on his asshole attitude. Everyone, that is, but Tara._

"_Look Baby, I know it's hard." She runs her fingers through his hair. "But being a dick to your mom and your friends isn't going to bring him back. Opie rode all the way out here to see you, and you pissed him off so much that he'd rather hang out with Kyle and Lowell than his best friend. Do you really want to alienate everyone? Is that what JT would've wanted for you?"_

_Opening his eyes, he stares at the most beautiful face in the world; overcome by a surge of love and affection for the fifteen-year-old girl who knows him better than anyone, he thanks her wordlessly by bringing her hand to his lips. But although his anger drains away, he can't shake the grief. A fact not lost on the smartest girl he knows._

"_I think I know what might make you feel a tiny bit better…" Pushing him so he's flat on his back, Tara straddles his thighs and runs her soft hands across his bare chest, spiking his excitement and his dick. Holy shit, does she want to fuck him right here out in the open? Hell, she'll get no protest from him; squeezing her ass, he stares hungrily at those lush breasts straining against her bikini top. _

_Reaching up to fill his hands with those puppies, he pauses dead in his tracks when her fingers stop enticingly short of his nipples and she flashes him that impish smile that's nothing but trouble. "Goddamn it…" Jax dissolves into helpless laughter as Tara tickles him mercilessly, digging those evil fingers into the weak spots on his body that no one else on this planet knows about._

"_Does this feel good, Baby?" Tara fingers continue to poke deliciously at his secret spots as she squirms against his crotch. Since they were little kids, Jax had always let her tickle him so he could hear her laugh as well; in the last couple of months, she's modified her technique to stimulate his other sensitive parts - enticing him to laugh hysterically and come at the same time. Oh holy shit, if grinds against him one more time, she's going to have one wet seat; his cock's ready to explode._

_Suddenly, laughter that doesn't belong to him or Tara penetrates his brain. Tilting his head, he's horrified to see Opie, Lowell and Kyle standing there laughing their asses off - Opie waving the camera that Lowell usually brings to snap pictures of chicks in bikinis._

"_You fucking shitheads!" He shouts at them as Tara scoots back to sit on the blanket, no hint of apology or sympathy on her grinning face. "I'll be right back." Cupping her cheeks, he smacks a hard kiss to her lips then takes off to go kill his friends._

"Daddy ticklish?" Giggling, Abel digs his small fingers into Jax's ribs forcing a chuckle to rumble from deep inside him.

Indulging his little boy like he first did for five-year-old Tara so many years ago, Jax sets Thomas on the rug next to his brother before doubling over with laughter, loving the sound of both his sons crowing with glee at the sight of their daddy rolling on ground as they tickled him.

"Okay, okay…my turn now!" Jax bolts ups and enfolds the little blond mini-me's in his arms, tickling their bellies and smacking wet kisses on their faces as they squeal in delight. "You got to do me a big favor, buddy." Ruffling Thomas' hair, he winks conspiratorially at Abel. "Don't tell anybody about Daddy being ticklish…it's a secret. Before only Mommy knew, now just us guys."

Nodding enthusiastically, Abel clasps his little brother's hand. "Me and Tommy promise."

Grinning, Jax hugs his boys tighter, pressing kisses to their foreheads as he gazes once again at the close-up photo of Tara from Opie and Lyla's wedding. She'd been smiling at him when the wedding photographer had snapped the picture; he likes thinking it's a special smile she saved exclusively for him. Somewhere, he hopes that she's smiling as she watches them, the three Teller men who loved her more than anything. And still do.

* * *

"_I do love dancing with you, Baby." Tara snuggles against him as he tightens his arms around her. Since dancing with her usually meant making out on the dance floor while swaying to the music, he agrees wholeheartedly. Back in high school - much to his Mother and Brothers' surprise - he never missed a chance to take Tara to the school dances - yeah, because he loved slow dancing with her, but also because they never lasted more than half an hour before taking off to have sex in some dark classroom._

"_Yeah…" His hands glide across the velvety soft skin bared by that mouthwatering blue dress; his whole body still buzzing from the short, hot fuck in her Mommy SUV. He and his Brothers had just got back from dealing with their Russian problem when Tara had "dragged" him off to the parking lot. "You lucky bastard," Kozik had groused; Jax had smirked smugly in return._

_He nods vaguely as the newly married Opie and Lyla wave goodnight, leaving him and Tara alone on the dance floor. Not that he gives a shit. Especially when he feels those plump lips graze his throat, his ear, his cheek…Capturing her lips, he feels his heart swell and pulse race as she sinks her tongue into his mouth. Yeah, he's a lucky bastard. The luckiest._

The buzzing on his phone nearly causes him to drop the photo of him and Tara dancing at Opie and Lyla's wedding. After putting the boys to bed a few hours ago, he'd gone back to his room to put all the pictures back in the redwood box - only to pull more out. Stacking the photos carefully, he drops them back in the box then glances down at his phone to read the anonymous text he'd been expecting for hours.

"Women's County parking. One hour."

Not wanting to attract any undue attention, Jax parks his truck on a dark residential street a couple of blocks away from County then heads off on foot to the back parking lot to meet Reese. Clenching his fists, he knows it'll take every ounce of his self-control not to finish off that prick; pounding the shit out of the smug asshole this afternoon, not to mention burning his pictures out of spite, hadn't been nearly enough to satisfy his jealous blood lust.

Approaching the Women's County Jail building, Jax grits his teeth as bitter memories slam into him of all the times he'd tried to see Tara there after her arrest - only to be turned away when she refused to see him. During his fourteen months in Stockton, he'd obsessed about her non-stop, counted the minutes until visiting day each week when he could be with her. So it'd fucking infuriated him to think that she could revert back to that overly self-sufficient girl who didn't need anyone, not even him. And it'd terrified him that he finally pushed her too far, that she finally stopped loving him.

So in a vile, selfish act of betrayal, he'd turned to Colette as an escape from his anger and fear. And shit, to close his eyes and pretend to be with Tara - just like he'd done with every other meaningless piece of ass he'd fucked since he was nineteen, after she left him the first time.

Bile rises in his throat, threatening to choke him as he remembers gasping Tara's name in that filthy whore's bed then practically bolting out of there so he could puke his goddamn guts out. Christ. If only he'd learned his fucking lesson then…

"You ready?" Reese steps out of the shadows, barely recognizable in a black hoodie and jeans, but Jax'll never forget that asshole's voice for as long as he lives.

Remaining silent, Jax just scowls at the stupid fuck; if he wasn't ready to do this, he wouldn't fucking be here. No, he's more than ready to confront the woman who claims to know something about Tara's murder. And if it's bullshit just to get out from under her drug charge, he's going to strangle the bitch with his bare hands.

Jax doesn't bother asking Reese how he arranged to have an inmate released for questioning at 2AM; frankly, he doesn't fucking care. Although he doesn't trust the fucking son-of-a-bitch for a second, Jax knows Reese wants justice for Tara, maybe almost as badly as he does.

Without saying another word to each other, they walk through a back entrance held open by a tall Sanwa deputy who Jax's never seen before. Apparently Reese's wasted no time collecting minions to do his bidding. The guy leads them to a small room overlooking an equally small interrogation room - where Colette's sitting at the table looking tired and pissed. Apparently they hadn't told her shit, which was fine with him. Surprise's always the best mode of attack.

"Better be no cameras." He glares at the deputy who shakes his head and admits that the camera's been broken for a couple of years - so they use this room for other "purposes." Jax rolls his eyes; he really doesn't want to fucking know.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, you can fuck your whore for old time's sake." Reese sneers at him, hate burning hotly in his cold blue eyes.

Ignoring the intense need to shove his knife into the insufferable prick's gut, Jax smirks at the black eye and big purple bruise on Reese's pretty boy face as the asshole pulls down his hood. "Fuck you." Then shoving past both men, he lets himself into the other room. Showtime.

"Oh Jax, thank god you've come," Colette tries to leap out of her chair to greet him, apparently forgetting the cuffs shackling her to the table. Shit, Reese must really have it in for her; Colette's not the slightest bit dangerous so all the restraints must be the control freak's way of reminding her of what she is - a criminal and a prisoner.

Faking a smile, Jax shuts the door then leans against it, trying to tamp down the urge to grab her by the throat and force what he wants to hear out of that foul dick sucking mouth. But that approach could get him nowhere if she balks; he can't afford to let her use what she knows to make a deal with Patterson.

"Hey darlin', you holding up okay?" Sitting down across from her, Jax pretends to give a shit as he leans forward and tries to look concerned. However, he keeps his hands close to his sides; there's no way he's touching this bitch again - ever. "Sorry you got railroaded, I'm trying to find you a good lawyer so we can get you out of here."

Up close, he can see her broken nose and bruised face from when Tara smashed it with her cast. Maybe he's a sick son-of-a-bitch, but he couldn't deny the thrill he'd felt to see that his girl still cared enough about him to beat the shit out of the skanks trying to steal her man. And there's no fucking doubt, he'd always be hers - whether she wanted him or not.

Colette shakes her head. "No, you've got to get Rosen to take my case, Jax. He's the best. I know he's beat charges like these before, beat that bitch DA before. I've already got two strikes on my record, one more and I won't be getting out of Chowchilla until I'm a goddamn senior citizen."

"Yeah, he told me you called him - that you had info that could help find Tara's murderer. Is that true?"

Disappointment clouds her face as she leans back in her chair. "I should've known that this visit wasn't about any concern for me. You're here to find out about your wife."

What the fuck did she think? He swallows his anger and flashes her the smile that's been melting women since the day he was born. "Can't it be both?" Watching her waver, he pounces. "Look, I want to know what happened to Tara. So does Rosen - he's always had a soft spot for her. You tell me what you know, and I'll make sure he's here first thing in the morning to take your case."

"But if you go after who killed her and that Sheriff, I lose my leverage." Colette may be trash, but she's smart trash. "The DA won't be interested in prosecuting a dead murderer. It won't matter who my lawyer is."

Jax curls his hands into fists so tight, he can feel his short fingernails digging into his skin. Although he knew her plan, it's quite another thing to listen to this goddamn fucking bitch trying to leverage Tara's murder for a walk on drug charges. It's everything he can do to keep from leaping across the table and bashing her fucking head into the cement wall.

"Rosen doesn't need to use what you know to get you a walk," he tells her, lying through his fucking teeth. "He knows enough shit about this place, about the DA to force her into any deal. Shit, Patterson could've nailed me on parole violation when they found me with a gun at my place. Rosie got that kicked before she could even file charges." Pasting an earnest expression on his face, he goes in for the kill. "The man's good, really good…but he also knows where the bodies are buried, and that's what makes him the best."

His sales pitch must've worked because she nods slowly then takes a deep breath. "Okay…The day your wife and that Sheriff got killed, I wasn't at Diosa all day like I said. Charlie told me that you and the missus split up, that she took your kids and left town…So I thought that maybe you would need me…like before. But you never showed so I had one of my girls drive me to Charming."

He'd been willing to let pass how she made his skin crawl with her flirtatious glances, even managed to force down his nausea at the thought she expected him to fuck her again. But the fact she'd gone to his house shoots his rage to the surface; this time he doesn't try to mask it. "My wife was murdered at our house…are you telling me that you saw something? Or did something?"

The coldness freezing his blood must've seeped to his expression and his voice because fear spreads across her face as she shakes her head almost frantically. "I didn't do anything, Jax. I swear. Once I saw her getting out of her car, we took off…I can give you my driver's name; she'll tell you the same thing."

"What did you see?" Out of fucking patience, he grits out the words.

Closing her eyes, as if trying to remember or trying to avoid the lethal glare on his face. "I saw her coming home; she had the Sheriff with her. She went inside and he stayed outside. We left right after that." Jax knows that corroborates the CSU report that Tara died first, and that Roosevelt must've stumbled on her body before getting shot in the back.

"That's it?" The calm in his voice surprises him given the pounding in his skull. "You can't possibly believe the DA would give you a deal for that."

She shakes her head. "No…there was a truck in your driveway so they had to park on the street. It said Unser Trucking. I recognized the name because some guys who used to work there a couple of years ago used to be customers."

Slamming his fists against the table, Jax shoots out of his chair; every vein in body about to burst from the boiling rage exploding inside of him. "What time was this?" He manages to spit out the question despite the roaring in his ears - although not that it fucking matters; he'd blocked out most of what happened that day except those last hours with Tara in the park and then in the motel…then finding her lifeless body on their kitchen floor.

"I don't know…" Colette cries as he lunges towards her. "I really don't….That day, I did a few lines, more than a few…that's why I needed someone to drive me."

Turning on his heel, Jax stalks towards the door; gripping the door knob, he looks over his shoulder at a shaken Colette. "Don't tell anyone else what you told me, except Rosen. He'll be here in the morning. Just like I promised." Storming out the door, he slams it shut and runs straight into Reese, the deputy nowhere in sight.

"What are you going to do, Teller?" The hot fury in his eyes mirrors the inferno Jax feels burning a hole inside him.

"I'm going to see my mother."


	15. What Hate Does to a Man

**AN: Hi all, so sorry for huge delay in updating. Had a brutal work schedule the past couple of months. Trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to read anything I would've tried to write. Thanks for being patient!**

**Also, when I first started writing Part 2, I'd said you didn't have to read Part 1 for Part 2 to make sense (or so I hope). Then I realized, writing this chapter and some previous chapters, I'd mentioned that Jax had been in the hospital. So for readers who've never read Part 1, most of that story revolves around Jax in a coma after he finds Tara dead in their kitchen and gets in a fight with Sanwa deputies. While he's in the coma, he flashes back through his life with Tara from childhood all the way through their last hours in the motel (6x13).**

**Chapter 14: WHAT HATE DOES TO A MAN**

"_Two o'clock is fine. Look forward to talking to you then." Jarry smiles as she reads the text from Lincoln Potter. After several rounds of phone tag, they finally have a time to talk. She's convinced that the US Attorney holds the key to Eli's murder. And Juice's involvement._

_Her smile quickly disappears as she spots a banged-up Nick Reese talking to one of her deputies. "What the hell happened to you?" In all the years she's known him, the state's golden boy's never had a hair out of place - much less the look of a prize fighter after all twelve rounds._

_Reese dismisses the other man with a nod before turning to and giving Jarry the full view of the cuts and bruises marring the face that was usually more movie star than public servant. Usually._

"_Got in a fender bender in The City…little problem with the airbag. I'm fine." He dismisses his injuries with a flick of his hand. "But you should know…one of the CO's at Women's County just found Colette Jane. Apparently she'd been attacked in the shower. She's dead."_

* * *

When Jax was little, he used to love the sporadic and often erratic visits from his dad's older brother, Crazy Uncle Joe - so named because the man was a veritable freak given all the shit he could remember, going back to when he was practically a baby. Crazy Uncle Joe would always regale them with these fantastic stories about his and JT's crazy-ass childhood that were so intricately detailed that someone (usually one of the Club members) would wind up calling bullshit - but his dad would always confirm the tales as truth so Jax always believed.

But not long after Tommy was born, the visits stopped and Jax's parents started clamming up every time he'd ask when Crazy Uncle Joe would visit again - always answering his questions with shrugs followed by terse orders for him to eat his dinner, do his homework, go outside and play. As he got older and busier with friends and school, Jax stopped asking - but he never forgot his dad's crazy but supercool older brother. He started taking pride in his own steel-trap memory; although not as razor sharp and to-the-letter-specific as his uncle's, Jax liked being able to recall details about people he'd met, things they'd said, shit that happened.

It wasn't until after Jax patched in that he found out what happened to Crazy Uncle Joe - that the man's retentive memory, which had entertained so many, also carried a dark side. Joe Teller had fought in the same war as Jax's dad, Piney Winston and Jury White, but in a different regiment - one that saw even more unspeakable horrors, one that returned just a single surviving member. No longer able to cope with the hellish memories that had plagued him since his discharge, Crazy Uncle Joe had bolted out of a VA reunion dinner, opting to eat his gun in the parking lot instead of the food on his plate.

Then Tara left for college and Jax, for the first time, learned all about the soul-wrenching pain that comes with the inability to forget - a pain that intensified through the years, even when Tara came back to him, because he couldn't shut out some of the truly horrible shit he'd seen and done.

However nothing, fucking nothing in his goddamn bloody past had prepared him for the endless nightmare that's been his life since Tara's death; nothing had readied him for the long, desperate nights - trying to find oblivion at the bottom of whiskey bottles, staring hard at the gun clutched in his shaking hand and wondering if Crazy Uncle Joe hadn't been so crazy after all.

But, unlike his fucked-up uncle, he couldn't take the easy way out - not when he's got to take care of his boys, not when he's hellbent to find the murdering piece of shit who'd destroyed his life. And make sure the fucker feels the pain that Tara's suffered and more - a goddamn shitload more.

"_Dr. Knowles' killer tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - six times. And with enough force to crack her skull."_

"_Cause of death…traumatic brain injury…multiple basilar skull fractures…cerebral hemorrhage…catastrophic blood loss…"_

"_She didn't die easily you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive..."_

"…_there was a truck in your driveway….It said Unser Trucking." _

Driving full speed to his mother's house, Jax tightens his grip on the steering wheel, trying to cope with the fucking demons howling inside his head - a losing battle as the enormity of Colette's revelation sinks its claws deeper into his brain. For some reason, his usually tight memory seems shot full of holes regarding that horrible day. The vague recollections of talking to Patterson, to his Brothers, to Nero and Alvarez - all diluted and muted by from those last haunting hours with Tara. But then back at County, Colette's words had slammed him back to that horrible day - to the short, damning exchange with Unser at Scoops.

"_Someone better fill your mom in."_

"_Yeah, we've been trying to find her."_

"_She was at the house. I'm not sure where she went. She was, uh…in pretty bad shape. She took my truck."_

It'd taken every fucking ounce of self-control not to succumb to his rage and pulverize every goddamn thing in sight. Starting with that insufferable prick Reese standing in his way.

"_What are you going to do, Teller?" The hot fury in his eyes mirrors the inferno Jax feels burning a hole inside him._

"_I'm going to see my mother."_

_Blocking the exit, Reese glares at him. "Your mother? What does she have to do with what your whore told you? I know there was bad blood between her and Tara, but Jarry said she had an alibi. You don't think…"_

"_You need to get the fuck out of my way," Jax hisses, sliding his hand down to rest lightly on his knife - Christ, how he'd love to gut this son-of-a-bitch and let him bleed out on the dingy floor._

_Reese purses is swollen lip stubbornly. "I'm coming with you." He turns to open the door, stopping when Jax slams him against the wall. "Hey, goddamn it…"_

"_I'm going to handle this…" Jax growls. "You need to stay the fuck out of my way, got that asshole? I'll get in touch later…Bit if I see you before then, I won't wait to kill you."_

Despite the damning shit stewing in his head, the rest of him balks at the idea that his mother could've done that to Tara. Sure they had a fucked-up history, but then so did everyone else in his crazy-ass life. In their world, they could say and do unspeakably horrible things to one another, but despite everything, they were family - they loved each other. And he knew for sure that his mother had loved Tara. He'll never forget how she'd sobbed at his hospital bed when he'd woken up screaming for his wife - how tightly she'd held his hand as they cried together over their shattering loss. Gemma Teller-Morrow may be many, many fucking warped things - but she's not a murderer (he's not counting his granddad's caretaker because that'd been an accident).

Which leaves the mystery of why Unser's truck had been in their driveway right before Tara died; Colette had no reason to lie about that - even though she's desperate to save her worthless ass, Jax can't believe she'd make up such a random detail.

Was it possible that Unser, fucking Wayne Unser, killed Tara and Roosevelt? Was it possible that the mostly harmless, onetime SAMCRO lackey had brutally murdered the innocent wife and mother he'd known since she was a little girl? If so, there'd only be one reason Jax could think of why Unser would do such a horrible thing…

Gemma's waiting for him as he storms into her house; somehow, despite his blinding rage, he'd had the presence of mind to call and tell her he was coming over - otherwise she might've mistaken him for a burglar and blown a goddamn hole through him with one of the half-dozen guns she kept bedside.

"Oh god, Jackson…what's wrong? Where are the boys?" She demands, her face frantic with worry as she grips his arms.

Jax pulls away, unable to abide the contact - not with the shit storm raging through him. "They're fine. Chucky and Rat are at the house watching them." He watches her stiff shoulders relax as she exhales loudly in relief. "What about your friends, Mom? What would they do for you?"

Although her brows wrinkle in confusion, something flickers in her eyes; he's known her too goddamn long to have missed it. Battling his temper, he steps closer and stares hard at the woman who'd raised him - the mother he's loved his entire life. "The day that Tara died…someone saw Unser's truck in our driveway. What the hell was he doing at my house, Mom? What would've sent him there?"

Backing up, she shakes her head franticly as horror spreads across her face. "No, Jackson. You can't possibly believe….There has to be some mistake…"

"No mistake." Jax snaps, clenching his fists. "Now tell me…Tell me!"

Most people would've crumpled in fear at the sound of him losing his shit - or run like hell. But Gemma Teller-Morrow isn't most people, and definitely not one who scares easily - not even when confronted with the monster that used to be her son. Stiffening, she stares him straight in the eye. "Wayne would never hurt Tara, Jax. Since she was a little girl, he'd always tried to protect her - from Frank, from Clay, from that black bitch DA…"

"Well his truck was in the driveway…so either he was there when Tara was murdered - or you were." He watches as her mouth drops open only to slam shut. It's not until he feels a sharp ache in his ribs that he realizes that he's been holding his breath.

Jax exhales loudly, but it's no relief to the tightness in his chest or the pounding in his head. "There's only one person that Unser lives to protect, Mom. Yeah, maybe he cared about Tara, but maybe he also thought she'd gone too far trying to frame you for the miscarriage? Maybe he didn't know about the deal I'd made with Patterson to save Tara…maybe he was trying to stop her from taking your grandsons away?"

He steps closer, his eyes boring into hers. "That day - Unser came to the shop…told us that you took his truck. Now why would he do that, Gemma? Was he covering up for something he did for you? Knowing that I'd never believe my own mother could…"

"Stop it!" She snaps, shoving at him. "Just fucking stop it. I don't know where the hell you're getting your goddamn information, but Wayne wouldn't hurt Tara. And surely not because of me…She and I had our differences - but I loved her too, Jackson. You weren't the only one who lost something that day…"

Sinking into a nearby chair, Gemma buries her face in her trembling hands. "It's a mistake…" She murmurs, then looks up at him with haunted eyes. "Someone's been feeding you shit…Unser spent the day taking Wendy back to rehab. And I don't know why he would tell you I took his truck…I didn't see him…"

Everything inside him goes quiet as the blood freezes in his veins. "Unser took Wendy to rehab that day?" It's a wonder he could spit the question out through his tightly clenched teeth, Lowen's voice echoing in his head.

_"Wendy told me that she talked to Tara right before she died…that Tara changed her mind and wanted the papers re-filed…"_

"…_she's still Abel's biological mother so she might have some standing now that Tara's gone. Especially if she can prove that Tara had intended to turn custodial rights over to her. If she gets the right judge, she might be able to use the old document and argue that Tara changed her mind about voiding it before she died."_

That bitch - that goddamn fucking bitch. When Lowen had told him about her talk with Wendy, he'd wondered when his junkie ex would've spoken to Tara since the guardianship papers had been voided just the day before.

_"There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you. I can pick them up later."_

Holy goddamn shit…could it be that Wendy arranged to meet with Tara one last time before heading to rehab, and then not getting the answer she wanted…Jax closes his eyes, trying hard to control the fresh rage exploding inside him. And Unser? How far would he go to protect Wendy? Enough to kill Roosevelt, the sole witness - the lawman compelled to report what Wendy had done? Jax shoves those thoughts aside; he'll deal with the old family "friend" later - after he deals with the cunt who may have killed his wife.

He glares coldly at his mother, who's watching him with wary and worried eyes. "I want you to call Wendy. Tell her to meet you at the cabin in an hour."

Alarm spreads across Gemma's face. "Jax…No…I know you hate Wendy…But she's not capable…" Standing up, she clutches his arms. "Look, it's 4am - let's talk about this later, after you've had some time to clear your head, think this through."

Jax shakes his head; anymore clarity and his brain might explode. "One hour, Gemma. Tell her to be at the cabin in one hour. Tell her it's about family. She'll come."

* * *

It's funny that, although he remembers so many things, most of his life with Wendy remain a blur - probably because he was drunk or high or both most of the time they were together. Christ, he doesn't even remember proposing. Just one weekend they were visiting Uncle Jury in Nevada, which somehow led to a drunken side trip to Vegas with his mom and Clay. He'd left Sin City a married man with no memory whatsoever of the wedding. But his mother had been grinning from ear to ear.

There'd been nothing subtle about Gemma pushing him to marry Wendy; his mom wanted grandkids almost as much as she wanted him to stop pining over someone who was long gone. Well she got the grandkid, but there was no erasing Tara - his girl lived inside him, imprinted in every cell in his body and nearly every thought in his head. His marriage to Wendy hadn't stood a chance.

He hadn't always hated her like this. Even when she'd nearly killed Abel with her weakness for drugs, he'd felt partially responsible because he'd deliberately stayed away from her - needing to be done with their marriage and to distance himself from the fatherhood he hadn't wanted. And after she left town when he'd refused a second reconciliation, he hadn't resented her for failing Abel once again. Not when Tara was ready to step in and be the perfect mom that his baby boy deserved.

It wasn't until the bitch had ambushed Tara, helpless and weak in her hospital bed after those cartel/CIA bastards had crushed her hand. With no regard or respect for Tara's fragile state, Wendy had selfishly pushed to get back into Abel's life - propelling a distraught Tara to reinjure her hand in a fit of terrified rage. He'd hated the goddamn junkie cunt after that; hated her with an intensity saved for the other goddamn fuckers who'd hurt his girl and threatened his family.

Twice he'd wanted to kill her…only to stop short of jamming a speedball in her arm and smacking her head against Gemma's patio floor. Fuck, if he'd just killed her that first time like he'd really wanted to do…Tara might still be alive.

"She's here," Gemma looks away from the window, her gaze flicking from him to Happy - who'd delivered the items Jax had asked him to bring. "Jackson, it's not too late to stop this. What if you're wrong? Wendy didn't hate Tara…"

"I don't give a fuck what Wendy felt!" He snaps, satisfied to see the fear creeping in his mother's eyes. If he's scaring Gemma, Wendy would shit in her pants. Good. "She killed Tara…I know it. There's no other answer…Wendy told Lowen that Tara consented to reinstate the guardianship…right before she died. Now when do you think Wendy would've had that chance to talk to her? If you loved Tara as much as you claim, then you know this has to happen…"

Gemma doesn't get the chance to answer as a loud knock echoes through the room. "Bring her to the kitchen," he orders softly, nodding at Happy to follow him.

"What's going on Gemma?" Jax hears the worry in Wendy's voice and clenches his fists, covered by his black gloves - Yeah, you'd better be worried, bitch. On the phone, Gemma had told her that a street war had erupted with the Mayans so Jax had ordered her to take the boys to the cabin; that Abel was hysterical and needed his mom - his real mom. "Where's Abel?"

Jax grits his teeth as Lowen's disgusted voice rings in his head. _"Wendy only wants Abel. Not Thomas."_ The selfish goddamn bitch; only looking out for herself and what she wanted - so unlike Tara, who'd never once saw a difference between Abel and Thomas, who'd loved and sacrificed everything for both her sons.

"The boys are in the kitchen eating breakfast." He hears his mother say, nothing in her friendly tone that could alert Wendy of the fate ahead of her. Despite Gemma's inexplicable fondness for her ex-daughter-in-law, she knows where her loyalty belongs. "Come join us."

Leaning against the edge of the table, Jax watches with bitter satisfaction as Wendy's smile fade into fear. "What are you doing here?" She demands, her rat-like eyes quickly scanning the room. "Where's Abel?"

"That's not your concern," he informs her coldly, stepping closer. "You're never going to see him again. My boy's going to forget you ever existed."

"You can't do that," she snaps; indignation overcoming her fear of him. "I'm his mother, his REAL mother. I have rights."

Yeah, rights. Rights that she hadn't given a fuck about during the long nights that baby Abel suffered from sleep apnea, with his heart arrhythmia, with the colics and fevers that he caught so easily because of his weak immune system. And when Jax'd been locked up in Stockton, the worthless bitch hadn't uttered a goddamn peep about her fucking rights while Tara raised the little boy while coping with pregnancy and struggling to make ends meet. No, Wendy couldn't sign away her parental right fast enough. Even Lowen had been surprised how little effort it took.

"Well, let's talk about those rights…" He thrusts the voided guardianship papers in her face. "You knew that Tara had rescinded your guardianship of our boys…But you told Lowen that Tara changed her mind." Stepping even closer to the person he now hates more than anything in this world, he lowers his voice to a whispered hiss. "So when did Tara do that? When did you see her?"

Wendy gapes at him, her mouth opening and closing like fucking fish. "I…I…Tara called me…She said that she made a mistake…That she needed me to help her…Keep the boys safe."

Shaking his head, Jax drops the papers and grabs her throat with his gloved hand. "She called you in rehab? Right. Try again, you lying bitch. You came to our house, and you ambushed her." Digging his fingers into her neck, he sneers grimly, sadistically as Wendy gasps for air. "Tara wouldn't change her mind, so you killed her. Were you fucking high when you stabbed her in the head over and over until you split her skull? Or did you really hate her that much? Because Abel loved her and not you? Or was it some fucking twisted way to ruin my life?"

"No! No!" Wendy tries to pry herself out of his grasp; her frantic eyes latching onto the only person in the room that gave a shit about her. "Help me, Gemma! You can't let him do this…"

Tightening his grip on her neck, Jax slams the Wendy hard against the wall. "There's no helping a worthless piece of shit like you." He glares down at her terrified, tear-streaked face - burning hate spewing from all his pores. "You goddamn fucking cunt…Does your junkie brain remember what I said to you at Gemma's the other day?" With his free hand, he motions to Happy who steps forward to stand next to him. "_The next time I see you…you die_."

"Okay, I lied!" Wendy screams hoarsely despite Jax's hand practically crushing her windpipe. "I didn't see Tara that day…I lied - she never told me she changed her mind. I swear!"

But instead of staying Jax's plans for murderous retaliation, her admission effectively tosses gasoline on his already blazing hot fury. First Colette, now Wendy - these goddamn bitches trying to benefit from Tara's death. Well they'll both learn the hard way, the excruciatingly painful hard way not to fuck with his wife's memory.

With one hand wrapped tightly around Wendy's neck, Jax glances down at the syringe that Happy'd placed in his hand. They'd both been careful to keep their leather gloves on, not wanting any contact with the contents that could spill from the needle. Wendy, on the other hand, won't be so lucky. "You know how some greedy dealers sometimes cut their H with all sorts of fucked-up shit to stretch the stash? They stuff their pockets, not giving a fuck what the tiniest drop of arsenic or strychnine could do to the dumbass junkies."

Wendy's eyes widen in horror as he waves the needle in her face. "Jax, please don't' do this…I didn't kill Tara. I didn't even see her that day. Jesus Christ, you have to believe me!"

But her pleas hit deaf ears; Jax could only hear the blood pounding against his brain, could only see Tara's lifeless body sprawled on their kitchen floor, could only feel her cold skin and unresponsive lips when he'd pulled her in his arms and kissed her. Tara hadn't deserved to go out like that - fuck no one did, but especially not his beautiful girl, who'd suffered so much abuse and violence only to remain the most loving and giving person he'd ever known. No, Tara deserved the fairytale, the beautiful life he'd wanted to give her since he was sixteen - the life, this goddamn junkie bitch stole from her, from their sons, from him.

"Come on, Jax. I've done some stupid shit, but I'd never...I could never kill anyone. I didn't kill Tara, I didn't…" Wendy's panic takes a cajoling turn as she grips his hand hers in an attempt to ease the pressure on her throat; her bugged-out eyes dart nervously between the syringe and his face. "You have to think about Abel…he needs his mother, he needs me. I can take care of him. Please Jax, you don't want to do this…You loved me once, I know you did…You wouldn't have married me if you didn't."

It didn't seem possible, but her words unleash a fresh surge of rage coursing through him. "All that shit you've been shooting up has really fucked with your brain. I never loved you, and what little I remember about being married to you isn't good." He ignores the hurt that flickers through her eyes, preferring to focus on the tiny pearl of liquid spurting from the tip of the needle. "But the really fucked up thing is…even though you almost killed Abel, that you walked away from him again and again because you can't stay clean - Tara still turned to you for help; she was going to trust you with both our sons...All you had to do was be worthy of that trust…I guess that was too much to expect for a worthless piece of shit like you…"

Jax turns to stare at the bitch who's destroyed his life, hate pumping hotly through his veins. "But you're right about one thing…my son misses his mother, both my boys do. Thomas cries himself to sleep every night and wakes up every morning calling for her, and Abel…Abel carries a stash of books from his Mommy, pictures of her in his backpack that he takes everywhere so he can keep her with him. You did that to them…You took their mother from them…You goddamn fucking bitch…You killed my wife!"

The last time Wendy threatened his family, he'd jabbed a non-lethal speedball into her arm to fuck up her drug test; the miserable cunt won't get the same mercy from him this time. Savagely jamming the needle into her arm, Jax flings her to the ground, smirking with satisfaction as she screams and convulses on the floor. It's not quite the level of brutality that Tara endured, but overdosing on heroin liberally laced with strychnine should be a slow and painful death.

"You bastard!" Wendy shrieks, literally frothing at the mouth. "I'm glad Tara's dead! Bitch…stole my…family…I hope…she...suffered…" Jax grits his teeth, trying to control the impulse to pull out his gun and blow a hole into Wendy's hideously bloated red face. But he's not about to cheat himself or Tara or their boys out of one second of this retaliation.

Crossing his arms, Jax watches impassively, intently as Tara's murderer thrashes violently, choking and screeching over and over how much she hates him, how much she hated Tara, how Tara deserved to die for stealing Abel - and Jax - from her. He hears Gemma gasp with horror as Wendy starts slamming her head and arms and legs against the floor; blood and foam gushing from nose and mouth. Maybe some part of him, some human part of him buried deep should've felt the slightest bit of pity for the woman he'd once married, who'd given birth to his oldest son - but there was nothing there but hate. The intense, violent hate he felt for anyone who hurt Tara.

"_And where do you think you're going with that gun?" JT calls after him, effectively freezing Jax on his way to the front door._

_Pasting on his innocent face, Jax shrugs in confusion. "Don't know what you're talking about, Dad. I don't have a gun." He clutches his backpack tightly, knowing that if his dad saw what he'd wrapped in a sweatshirt and tucked between his video games and Tara's paperback books, there'd be hell to pay. Not to mention that he'd likely be grounded until hell froze over._

"_It's not a toy, Jackson. I told you that I'd teach you how to shoot when you turn thirteen. But that's going to be thirty if you don't turn around and put it back. Right now."_

_Clenching his jaw stubbornly, Jax thinks about standing his ground and maintaining his innocence. If he's convincing enough, maybe his dad would let up and won't search his backpack or…he glances at the front door. Maybe he could make a run for it; he's gotten really fast since he grew those last couple of inches. But what if he gets caught? His dad's pretty quick, too. Jax scours his brain, searching for something - anything - that could get him out of the house without emptying his pack._

"_Where are you going anyway? It's almost dark outside." JT steps closer, taking a sip of his beer. "And I know the Winstons are in Reno for the week for Mary's dad's funeral."_

_And that's why he has to get to Tara's house now. Ever since Tommy died a couple weeks ago, Jax often felt compelled to escape his grief-stricken parents to spend even more time with Opie and Tara - especially the latter. Since her old man roughed her up, Tara sometimes needed his help while her broken bones healed. He grits his teeth, anger swamping him again at the thought of goddamn Old Man Knowles hurting her. And now with Piney gone for a week, Jax's got to make sure the motherfucker leaves her alone._

_His dad's eyes narrow as realization dawns; despite the glass of whiskey he nursed through dinner, JT's still as sharp as the knife strapped to his leg. "It's a fine thing to want to protect the people we care about, Son. What Frank did to Tara was unforgivable, but what you're planning won't help her."_

_The hell it won't, Jax snarls to himself; normally he wouldn't question anything his dad said - but not this. JT didn't know about the fear that would spread across Tara's face over any little thing that could set off her dad's temper or about how much it gutted him when she'd cry because her daddy hated her so much._

_And JT didn't know that this afternoon, while he and Tara were in her room playing video games, Old Man Knowles had come home early and stinking drunk. Tara had made him swear to stay put while she took care of her dad, who'd returned his daughter's concern with vicious screaming taunts - how he should've let her mother have the abortion she'd wanted, how Grace would still be alive if it weren't for Tara - "the stupid, worthless little bitch who made their lives hell." The sound of shattering glass and Tara's cries of pain had Jax bolting out of her room and into the kitchen, where he found Frank Knowles passed out on the table after apparently hurling a casserole dish of cold leftover pasta at Tara. Fortunately, he'd missed, smashing the dish against the wall - although some shards of glass had hit and cut Tara._

"_Don't cry, Tara," he'd whispered to her, wiping the blood and tears from her still-bruised cheek. "I won't let him hurt you anymore. I promise."_

_And so after going home and wolfing down his dinner, he'd marched into his dad's study and opened the gun safe with the spare key he'd stolen from the desk. Taking a gun from the back shelf so no one would notice it was missing, Jax had stuffed it in his backpack, ready to do what he had to do so that Tara's fucking asshole old man would never hurt her again. Tara made him promise that he'd never do anything to her dad, but that doesn't count scaring the asshole shitless with one of JT's big guns - although if the son-of-a-bitch touched her again, promise or no promise, Jax would make him pay._

_"Give me the gun, Jax. Now." JT's hard tone left no room for argument so Jax reluctantly reached into his bag and pulled out the SAMCRO sweatshirt with the gun inside. "You're only twelve, Son - too young to be thinking about guns and retaliation. Besides, you think a nice little girl like Tara would be okay with you shooting her dad? Frank's a goddamn son-of-a-bitch, but he's still her father. You got to think about the consequences, Jax - it's not just about how you feel in the moment."_

_Pissed over his thwarted efforts to protect Tara, Jax scowls at his dad. "Can I go now? The asshole passed out in their kitchen. I just want to make sure she's okay. I'll do my homework over there."_

_For a few silent and scary seconds, Jax thought that his dad might refuse and send him to his room for trying to take the gun. But then JT surprised him by nodding then walking past him to the front door. "Come on, I'll give you a lift there - and back, when you're ready. It's been a while since I've seen ol' Frank, 'bout time for some catch up."_

_Jax feels a slow smile twist his lips. "Thanks, Dad."_

"_You're welcome, Monster…" His dad ruffles his hair, which Jax fucking hates but tolerates this once. "Look, don't get me wrong, Kid. Retaliation is necessary evil; it's what we do. But be careful you don't mix hate into that equation. Hate does terrible things to a man; turns him into something that he's not, something he swore he'd never be. You're a great kid, Jax. I love that you're trying to protect your friend. But just remember what we talked about tonight…It's hard not hate, don't let it swallow you."_

His dad was right - hate could drive a man to extremes, turn him into someone unrecognizable, something unspeakable - but what JT didn't tell him was that when people try to break you or take pleasure in making you bleed, then hate's the only feeling that makes sense. Jax'd written those words in his journal for Abel and Thomas right after Opie died; until then, he'd tried to live by his dad's words - tried not to let hate consume him, not an easy thing after all the shit that went down with Clay - what the bastard did to Tara, to Piney, to his father. But after watching his best friend get bludgeoned to death because of some goddamn sociopath's fucked up power-play, Jax found himself embracing his hate - fueling it, exploiting it - to punish the fuckers who killed Opie.

But the retribution meted out to Damon Pope and his murdering flunkies pale in comparison to the price Jax chose for Wendy. The fucking cunt should've died years ago only to survive, scurry away and then resurface - like a goddamn cockroach. Well not this time. Once he found out that she'd killed Tara, there was only one way for him to take out the junkie bitch. Locked up in Stockton and then working with the cartel and the Mayans, Jax learned all about the dangers of street heroin - most importantly, where to get the shit cut with just the right amount of rat poison to kill off a big rodent. With the maximum amount of pain.

It takes a little under an hour for the drug to finally take out the junkie; although by that time, the most violent seizures had passed - leaving Wendy a twitching, distorted mess covered in blood, vomit and other assorted foul bodily fluids. Shit, at some point, she'd bitten off her tongue and spit it across the floor - a blessing for Jax who'd clenched his fists every time she'd cursed Tara and Gemma, screaming that they both should burn in hell along with him.

"Tara didn't deserve what you did to her, bitch," Jax hisses, glaring into her bruised and sightless eyes. "Our boys didn't deserve to lose their mother. But you…" He scans her broken body without an ounce of regret or remorse; hate really does breed monsters. "You earned every second of this…I only wish I did it sooner."

"Cleanup crew will be here in fifteen, Prez." Happy's voice cuts into his thoughts, prompting Jax to nod in appreciation. His Brother's certainly detail-oriented when it comes to killing. "I'll wrap up the body and put it in the trunk."

Jax nods again and murmurs his thanks before heading into the other room where Gemma's sitting on the couch smoking a joint and drinking Jack straight from the bottle. His mother's seen more than her share of bad shit, but somehow watching Wendy's violent convulsions had been too much for her - especially after hearing Wendy's skull cracking after she'd repeatedly bashed her own head against the floor. Jax had considered it poetic justice.

"You okay?" He leans against the wall and lights up a cigarette. There was one more thing to do, and his mother would be key to that.

Gemma barks out a laugh. "Am I okay? I just watched my son execute my daughter-in-law in the most fucked-up way. And you want to do this to Unser?" She shudders then takes another hit off the joint.

Stalking over to her, Jax grabs the bottle of Jack from her hand and hurls it against the wall. "Wendy was NOT your daughter-in-law," he shouts, not giving a shit as fear leaps into his mother's eyes. "She was the junkie bitch who killed my wife and robbed my sons of their mother. You might want to remember that."

He leans over her until they're eye-to-eye. "Mom, I'm not going to kill Unser, but I do need to talk to him." Straightening, he takes a few more drags off his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray. "Now I'm going to get rid of the body, then I'm taking my boys to daycare. I think it would be very nice for you to invite Unser to your house for lunch. It's been a while since I've talked to him…it'd be nice to catch up."

Heading towards the door, he tosses one last look her way. "And don't even think about warning him off. I mean it when I said I won't kill him…but if I have to hunt him down, then all bets are off."

* * *

_Jax wakes with a start, slightly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings until flashes from all the crazy-ass shit that happened last night fill his brain. He killed a man in cold blood last night, shot him point blank through the head. Not that the bastard hadn't asked for it - if anything that psycho Kohn deserved worse, much worse for attacking Tara last night and for all the shit he'd done to her in Chicago. Much worse._

_Tara. Tightening his arms around her, he presses a kiss to her forehead. Despite every fucked-up thing that happened last night, he got two miracles that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve but happy as hell to have: finally holding his baby son after months of watching him from a distance and finally getting Tara back in his arms after more than a decade of wanting and waiting._

_Fuck, he'd completely lost his shit last night. He hadn't originally intended to kill the Fed; hell, he'd been assuring Tara that Kohn would be the one locked up after violating the restraining order and nearly raping her inside her home. But then the son-of-a-bitch had started shouting those horribly familiar insults at her..."stupid bitch"…"pathetic whore"…"biker slut"…and suddenly all Jax could hear was Frank Knowles' screaming taunts while watching Tara break down from all the terror and anxiety that bastard had caused her._

_So he'd blown that psycho prick to hell._

"_Hi." Waking slowly, Tara snuggles closer before tilting her head to face him. Although it's still early, there's enough dim light for him to see the soft smile and beautiful green eyes that've haunted him for years. Maybe their first morning together in eleven years should've been awkward - especially with a dead body lying a few feet away - but then there's never really been any awkward moments between them. They've known each other so long and so well that they could be apart for a hundred years and still fit together like a matched set._

"_Morning." Stroking her cheek, he presses a slow kiss to her lips. "You okay?" For a few moments last night he'd worried that she might've been horrified and repulsed over what he'd done. After all, she'd never been able to understand the violent world that he'd embraced when he patched into SAMCRO. But there was no disgust or disappointment on her face when she'd stared at him, when she'd kissed him, when she'd opened her thighs and let him back inside his personal heaven._

"_Yeah, I think so. What about you?" She fingercombs his hair, just like she used to do since they were kids. Although he's got a much deeper appreciation for it now._

_Capturing her hand in his, he lifts it to his lips. "I got to get up in a minute…got to get rid of him before it gets too light outside."_

_Tara looks away and for a panicked second he worries again that she might not want anything to do with a convicted felon…and murderer. But there's open affection in her eyes when she faces him again. "Thank you for coming to help me. I…I just don't feel safe with anyone else."_

_Cupping her face in his hands, he stares at the girl he's loved for most of his life. "You don't have to thank me, Tara. I told you that I'll always be there for you, Babe. No matter what. Got that?"_

"_Got it…" She kisses him softly then twines her arms around his neck, pressing herself flush against him so he could feel their hearts pounding in rhythm. _

_Burying his face in her neck, he squeezes her tight. When he feels her dozing off again, he presses another kiss to her forehead. "No one's ever going to hurt you again, Tara. I'll kill anyone who tries."_


	16. Like A Deadly Balancing Act

**Chapter 15: LIKE A DEADLY BALANCING ACT**

"_So the late madam had an affair with Teller, who may or may not have been a partner in her drug business - and she didn't have an alibi for the time of Tara Knowles' murder?" Sitting at her desk, Patterson glances between Jarry and Reese. "I know a few things about Jackson Teller, and one of those things is that he loved his wife…If anything, it leads me to wonder whether Teller suspected Colette Jane killed Tara and…"_

"_I wouldn't exactly call it an affair," Jarry cuts in. "Based on all accounts, they hooked up twice - never happened again after his wife caught them." Pulling out her small notebook, she waves it at Patterson. "According to the Diosa's #2 in command, the madam's partner in the drug business was an ex-Stockton PD officer named Charlie Barosky. If anyone had motive to keep the madam quiet and had access to Women's County, it's him."_

_A slow smile spreads across Jarry's face at the reminder of their earlier, more successful interrogation of Colette Jr. In exchange for a suspended sentence and community service, the anorexic Barbie Doll spilled her guts about everything she knew about her boss and Charlie Barosky, the former (and current) corrupting blight on the Stockton police force. Jarry's been trying to bring down that crooked son-of-a-bitch since her rookie year when she learned there were no depths too low for him to sink. And now she has all the proof she needs to send the fucker to prison where he belongs._

"_Maybe you're both right..." Reese breaks his silence, eyes rooted to the photos pulled from the file resting on his lap. "…maybe Teller's whore killed Tara - she had motive, no alibi and if we dig deep enough we might be able to place her at the scene. But the CSU report suggests someone else killed Roosevelt." _

_He looks up at Patterson. "How much do we really know about the state of their marriage leading up to her murder? What if Teller offered himself up for the school shootings so Tara wouldn't take the WitPro deal - knowing that Colette Jane was waiting at his house, ready to take care of their problem? What if Roosevelt walked in on the scene and Teller took him out to protect his lover?" Closing the file, Reese hands it back to Patterson. "Killing a witness to a capital crime - who happened to be a decorated law enforcement officer…sounds like the AG's picture perfect case."_

_Jarry gapes at Reese in surprise; throughout this whole investigation, the man's stayed away from speculation - hell, if anything he'd steered them away from Jax Teller due to the lack of concrete facts. What the hell brought about this change?_

_Reese meets her stunned gaze. "And maybe you're right as well, Sheriff. Maybe the madam's real partner wasn't too thrilled with the idea that she could give him up in exchange for any kind of deal. After all, she was looking at strike three with this latest drug bust. If this Barosky's as connected as you say, then it wouldn't be hard to pull the strings to make his problem go away."_

_Jarry watches Patterson's eyes light up with satisfaction; even though it's clear the DA still doesn't believe Teller had a role in his wife's death, she wants him off the streets. And now the career politician finally, finally has the state's golden boy on her side. "Go pick up Teller for questioning," she orders Jarry. "He's not under arrest…at least not yet."_

"_I'll come with you, Lieutenant." Reese rises to follow her. "I'd finally like to meet this Biker King."_

* * *

Compared to the other mindfucking shit that he's done, earning the Men of Mayhem patch had been a goddamn piece of cake - living with the consequences of it…well that was something else entirely. Although Jax knew that spilling blood was as much a part of SAMCRO as a cut and a Harley, he'd never been able to wash it off as easily as his Brothers. No matter how battered and bruised, his troubled conscience always seemed to fight to the surface despite his constant attempts to bury it deep or kill it altogether.

But through the years of watching his victims succumb to Mr. Mayhem, Jax could never quite ignore the prickles of regret and remorse; not when it'd been the image of Tara's beautiful face - worried and disappointed - that flooded his mind, the sound of her sad voice that echoed in his ears.

"_Don't let this change you, Jax." She brushes her fingers across the week-old patch on his cut then strokes his bruised face (the Mayan hadn't gone down easily). "I love you so much, Baby. You've got a big beautiful heart, don't let them kill it."_

However it hadn't been the Club or the new assassin's patch that snuffed out the heart she'd worried so much about it; Tara had done that herself when she left him for college less than a month later. But regardless of whether she stood by his side or a million miles away, he never went a day without wondering what she'd think about the shit he did - if she'd be proud or repulsed. Sadly more often than not, it felt like the latter; so with her in mind, he'd try to do what he could to fix the damage of the day before - to try and be worthy of the girl he loved so much.

But all that changed the day Tara died; now all his regret and remorse revolves around the woman and the future he'd lost. He doesn't have shit left for anything else - certainly not for slime like Marks, Colette or Wendy.

Dumping Wendy's carcass into the shallow grave (not far from where he'd dispatched Kohn), Jax had stared into that hideous blue and bloated face as if waiting for shards of guilt to pierce him - but he'd felt nothing, nothing but hate.

Rather, he'd watched impassively as Happy covered the corpse with gasoline then light it on fire, and then just like Kohn - Wendy Case disappeared forever. And just like Kohn, no one would ever give a shit.

Now he's got one more thing left to do before he can say goodbye to his Brothers and his mother and take his family out of Charming for good. But that one thing - confronting a man he's known his whole life - won't be as easy or as satisfying as sending Wendy to hell. Yet on some level, his rage at Unser boils unparalleled; the man who's known Tara since she was a little girl…who'd broke down and cried over her when he'd visited Jax in the hospital…Why in fucking hell would the fucked-up son-of-a-bitch feel the need to protect Wendy after what she'd done to Tara?

But Jax won't be pushing the man for answers; at this point, he doesn't give a shit. No, all he wants the ex-cop to do is tell the truth and fuck up Reese's plan to pin Roosevelt's death on him.

_"Cards on the table, Teller. I'll help you find her murderer, help you put that animal down…and then I'm going to nail you for killing Eli Roosevelt, a decorated county Sheriff and witness to Tara's murder; once you're convicted, I'm going to have a front row seat when the state jabs a needle into your arm."_

He can't wait to see prick's sanctimonious face when his crazy batshit plan gets blown to hell.

"Jax, we should go…" Dumping a final shovel-full of dirt on the smoldering ashes, he glances up at Happy and nods. One more thing left to do…

* * *

"Hurry Daddy, we hafta to go now." Abel tugs impatiently on his shirt. "Me and Tommy want to go now." Coming home to find his boys eating breakfast with Chucky and Rat, Jax had barely sipped some coffee and taken a bite of toast before Abel leaped from the table and announced it was time to leave for daycare.

Jax glances over at his baby boy, sitting in his high-chair casually dropping Cheerios from his bowl to the floor; apparently Thomas' got a different definition of urgency than his older brother. Turning back to Abel, he smiles slightly at the sight of the little boy threading his arms through his ever-present backpack, refusing any help from Chucky or Rat. Little Mr. Independent - Abel's determined to do everything for himself, just like someone else Jax had known well. "What's the rush, Little Man? We'll get there, but let your brother finish his breakfast."

Eyeing his little brother trying to prove the theory of gravity with breakfast cereal, Abel wrinkles his forehead and arches a brow. "Really?" he drawls in such sheer Tara fashion that Jax nearly chokes on his food.

"Okay, Buddy," he rasps, his throat tight. "We'll go now."

Lifting Thomas out of his high-chair, Jax takes the packed diaper bag from Chucky then lets Abel tug them towards the door. "Are you taking rocks to daycare?" He frowns at his son's bulkier-than-usual backpack; stuffed full with the dozen books that Tara had recorded along with a couple framed photos of her, the bag looked heavy enough to tip the little boy over - what the fuck else had Abel shoved in there?

But his son doesn't get the chance to answer as Jax opens the front door to discover a pair of uninvited guests - Sheriff Althea Jarry, her fist raised, ready to knock on the door. Instantly, he feels Rat and Chucky tense behind him as Abel presses himself closer.

"What do you want?" Jax growls at them; noting the pair of deputies standing in the driveway, he shoots a glare that promises death at Nick Reese.

Jarry flashes a reassuring smile at Abel before facing Jax. "We just want to talk," she tells him, no doubt her friendly tone more for the little boys' sake than their father.

"Well, we're on our way out," he grits out. "You'll have to make an appointment with my secretary."

Jarry scowls at him, her feigned affability giving way to annoyance. "We have some questions for you, Mr. Teller - about your business partner, Colette Jane. I'd prefer not to go into specifics right here." She glances pointedly at Abel. "It would be much easier if you just come with us…"

Feeling Abel's grip tighten on his hand, Jax wavers between telling these assholes to get the fuck off his property and surrendering peacefully to avoid scaring his sons - however, the decision's yanked from him by the most unlikely source.

"As he said, Mr. Teller's about to take these young men somewhere…surely we can wait for him to finish then meet us at the Sheriff's station in…let's say an hour?" Stunned by Reese's unexpectedly generous capitulation, they all turn to gawk at him - only to find the man's attention riveted on Thomas.

As usual, Jax's baby boy soaks up the attention, showing off some brand new teeth as he grins broadly at the strangers. Unlike his more reticent older brother, Thomas Teller charges into every day ready to charm the shit out of everyone - just like his Daddy. And now it appears as if he's won over the biggest asshole in the universe.

While Reese's captivation with the youngest Teller might've mystified everyone else, Jax knows better than anyone what it feels like to fall victim to those sparkling green eyes. His baby boy may mirror him in every way, but those eyes are pure Tara.

"You look like my Daddy." Abel lets go of his Jax's hand, steps forward and peers up at Reese. "You have ouchies like Daddy, too." Forgetting his usual shyness around new people, Abel reaches into one of his backpack's many pockets and pulls out a band-aid decorated with Batman logos, which he offers to Reese. "Mommy says you hafta put these on your ouchies or they get 'fected."

Jax's hate for the colossal prick ticks down a few microscopic degrees when Reese squats in front of Abel to accept the band-aid, flashing a smile so warm and sincere that Abel beams back and Jax almost forgets his intent to kill the man.

"Your Mommy must be one smart lady." At Abel's fervent nod, Reese unwraps the band-aid and sticks it on one of the cuts on his cheek. "Thanks, Buddy."

"My Mommy's a doctor," Abel tells him somberly. "I'm gonna be a doctor, too." For the second time this morning, Jax's throat tightens; there's absolutely fucking nothing he wouldn't give or do for Tara to be right here, right now listening to how much she meant to their son. To all of them.

"I'm sure you'll be a great doctor." Looking a bit rattled himself, Reese shakes the little boy's small hand. "Just like your Mommy."

Abel's smile widens as he clutches the strap of his backpack, leading Jax to suspect the reason for its exponential growth; that nestled with the books and framed pictures would be Tara's medical bag. Unable to help himself, Jax hugs his boys tighter against him. "I'm taking my sons to daycare now." He tells an irate and confused Sheriff Jarry. "And I'll be at your place in an hour." Turning around, he nods at Chucky. "Call Rosen."

* * *

"_It's just wrong." Perched on his lap, Tara casts yet another withering scowl at the mostly naked threesome fucking openly in a not-so-dark corner of the Clubhouse. The party's been in full swing for less than an hour with SOA Members from all over the West Coast pushing the limits of drunken debauchery - including the Tacoma President, who'd been pulled away from them by two busty croweaters. "He's married." She narrows her eyes, outraged for the man's absent wife. "Shit, he was showing me pictures of his family just a few minutes ago."_

_Jax squeezes her thigh and nuzzles her neck, partly to diffuse her indignation but mostly because he's missed her so damn much during the four days he and his Brothers had gone to Tucson for the election of a new SAMTAZ President. His pulse spikes at the feel of goosebumps peppering her baby soft skin._

_Holy shit, after the last few hours spent fucking each other into oblivion, his dick should be wrung dry and limp as a goddamn noodle. But no - nestled against her very fine ass, his cock's brick hard and ready to rip through his jeans. He's pretty much shit at abstinence, viscerally hating every second spent away from her; lucky for him, Tara burns the same way - he'd been stripped naked and mounted within seconds of climbing through her window late last night. Burying his face in her silky hair, he pulls her tighter against him, his cock twitching impatiently at the memory of how quickly and violently she'd ridden them to orgasm._

"_Part of the life, Sweetheart." Bobby hands her a joint. "What happens on the road don't mean shit."_

_Frowning, she takes a hit then passes it to Opie. "That's ridiculous; I may be new at this Old Lady business, but I can't imagine his wife feels that way." No doubt feeling the seismic rumblings pressing against her ass, she nearly blinds Jax with a smile before feeding him a slow, wet kiss. "Tell me that you don't buy that shit, Baby…"_

_Already dazed from the intoxicating feel of her lush mouth, Jax's brain empties as he gazes into those hypnotic eyes. "What?" At the sound of his Brothers roaring with laughter, he scowls at them over Tara's shoulder._

"_Darlin' you don't have to worry about the kid here." Tig reaches over to ruffle Jax's hair. Unwilling to unwrap his arms around Tara long enough to slug his fucking asshole Brother, Jax recoils angrily - shooting the motherfucker his most lethal glare._

_Undeterred, Tig pokes the bear even further by squeezing Tara's knee. "You got loverboy so pussy-whipped that when you cross these long legs, we could be in Mexico and he'd get a boner." Fueled by the sight of Opie and Bobby laughing their asses off, Tig smirks and ignores Jax's threats of painful and immediate death if he doesn't take his goddamn hand off Tara and shut his fucking mouth. "Seriously, I've never seen someone jerk off as much as this guy on a run. I told him he'd better start letting croweaters suck his dick or get your name tattooed on his right hand."_

_Although none of the appallingly inappropriate shit his Brothers say ever seems to faze Tara (especially not after the past couple of years hanging out in the Clubhouse), sometimes these assholes go too far. Wrinkling her forehead, she arches a dark brow in distaste. "Really?" _

_Jax's not quite as restrained in his fury. "You goddamn prick…don't you ever talk to Tara like that," he seethes hotly. "And seriously, you've got half a second to get your fucking hand off my Old Lady or I'm going to hack it off and fucking beat you to death with it." Despite patching in just last year, Jax doesn't give a shit about openly challenging one of the senior Members - especially not over what belonged to him._

_No doubt aware of the carnage that would surely follow from the combustible mix of his volcanic temper and Tig's penchant for tossing gasoline on fire (literally and figuratively), Tara rolls her eyes at Opie then plucks the offending hand from her knee. Swiveling to straddle Jax's thighs, she distracts him with the view of her plump cleavage so deliciously displayed by her wispy mint green halter top._

_Pressing those lush breasts against him, she grinds down on his still-hard cock and whispers hotly in his ear. "Why don't you just fuck me instead?"_

_He doesn't need to be asked twice. Rising, he hauls her over his shoulder, flips Tig the bird then practically sprints to the one place nearby where they could be alone - no fucking way any of these clowns get to see Tara naked._

"_Are you sure this is okay? I mean your Mom works in here." Sitting up after Jax dumps her on the couch, she glances around the TM Office, lingering on the desk where Gemma Teller-Morrow spends a good part of every day._

_Jax frowns as he tugs off her cut-offs and panties before pulling her to straddle him once again. "It's fine. And let's definitely not talk about my mom right now." Tugging down the halter top that's been torturing him for hours now, he takes a second to savor the mouthwatering view of her perfect pink-tipped breasts then sucks a plump nipple into his mouth._

"_Oh shit, I love you so much, Babe" he moans as she pulls his stiff cock out of his jeans - gripping him tightly in one hand while massaging his balls with the other._

_Sliding her hand up and down the rigid length of him, Tara smiles as he shivers with excitement. "Tell me again that you missed me…" Nodding fervently, he continues to suckle her breasts greedily then moans again - louder - when she rubs the slippery wet head of dick against her clit. "Promise me that Tig's right…that you don't touch any of those sluts that throw themselves at you. Just me…"_

_Releasing her nipple, Jax lashes it with one long lick before gazing up at her. "Tig might be a sick fuck, but yeah, he's right." He stares at her intently while his fingers encircle her hand clutching his cock. "Since it's been just you and me…the only people who've touched this bad boy have been you and me. And my doctor - but he's sixty and not my type."_

_Giggling softly, Tara cups his face then melts what's left of his brain with a deep, wet kiss as she slowly impales herself on his dick that always seems to harden into solid rock anytime she's with him - in the flesh or in his mind. "I love you more than anything in this world, Jax. And I do trust you…" _

* * *

"So the last time you were here answering questions about your wife and Sheriff Roosevelt's death, you left out one critical detail." Patterson pierces him with a hard stare from across the interrogation room table."

Jax crosses his arms and returns her glare. "And what would that be? I told you everything I remember about that day." It'd been excruciating to re-live his last few hours with Tara: the painful confrontation in the park, the ecstasy of their reconciliation in that motel room (although he left out the more private details that were none of her fucking business), the agony of finding Tara lying murdered on their kitchen floor.

"You conveniently forgot to mention you were having an affair with another woman, who was not only the madam of a whorehouse but a long-time drug dealer to boot," she snaps at him. "Maybe I wouldn't have so readily believed your willingness to sacrifice your freedom for your wife's if I knew about that. Now I wonder if it'd all been some carefully constructed plot…you playing on Tara's love for you, on her desperation to keep your sons safe…and on my eagerness to punish the monster responsible for the deaths of those school children. All the while, your lover's lying in wait to make sure you wouldn't have to honor our arrangement."

Gritting his teeth, Jax grips the edge of the table until his fingers turn white - just like the last time they brought him in this goddamn room; however, this time it's not only just Patterson's blood he wants but also the fucking son-of-a-bitch sitting silently across from him. Besides their terse introduction, the asshole's remained silent through this whole shitfest.

"That is a goddamn lie," he hisses at her through clenched teeth, ignoring the dark look from Rosen warning him not to fall into one of Patterson's traps. "For the last fucking time, I didn't have anything to do with killing my wife or Roosevelt. I'd never hurt Tara."

"No?" She slides a file folder across the table at him. "These are some surveillance photos taken of your wife…at first I thought she was just worried about her upcoming trial. Now that we know she was aware that her husband was cheating on her with some cheap hooker, well I can't imagine how that wouldn't hurt…"

Opening the file before Rosen can stop him, Jax pores through the series of pictures - trying desperately to appear unaffected despite the slight tremble to his hands and wetness welling in his eyes. Based on the dates imprinted on the photos, they'd been taken on several occasions leading up to the day she'd run off with their sons.

_Sitting on the picnic bench in front of their old Clubhouse - Abel on her lap and Thomas in her arms; the cheerful smile she forces for them can't hide the sadness and desperation in her eyes. In the distance, he's standing with Gemma and his Brothers talking and laughing._

_Walking out of St. Thomas to her car with Rat trailing dutifully behind; her face pale with exhaustion and fear, her shoulders slumped in defeat - no sign at all of that spirited, indomitable girl he loved so much._

_Sobbing with her face buried in her hands, huddled alone in the front seat of her parked SUV._

Jax doesn't have to check the date on the last photo to know it'd been taken after she'd caught him with Colette, but he'd been sadly surprised by the others. Although he'd sensed and hated the distance growing between them, it hadn't occurred to him how lost and alone she must've felt. His fingers curl around the last photo as self-disgust swamps him; once again so focused on his vision that he's oblivious to her pain. It's been happening since they were kids; you'd think he'd fucking learn from all his goddamn mistakes with her - but it's too late now.

Slamming the file closed, Rosen glares coldly at the DA as he tosses the folder back to her. "This is some pretty amateurish fishing, Mrs. Patterson. After all this time, you still don't know shit so you're trying to stir up my client's grief over losing his wife to glean a spontaneous confession? Pathetic. I've seen better work by first years in Legal Aid."

Outrage flares in her eyes. "Now look here…"

"No." Rosen shoots her down as he stands and motions to Jax to follow. "If you ever waste our time like this again, I'm sending you a bill." A smug sneer spreads across his face as he regards Patterson, Jarry and Reese. "I'm usually not one to break Attorney-Client Confidentiality, but I think right now, my real client would insist on it…Jax didn't hire me to represent him. Neither did his mother or SAMCRO. Tara did."

Rosen's smirk broadens at their collective looks of confusion. "She'd already hired me for another matter, which I can't discuss. But I can say that she came to see me after Jax made his deal with you…" He nods pointedly at Patterson. "Tara knew he'd be going to prison but wanted me to make sure you didn't screw him over. Now does that sound like a scorned wife trying to punish a cheating husband? Or a couple planning a future together after just a few years apart?"

"That only works if Teller knew that she hired you to represent him," Patterson points out, her dark eyes locked on Jax. "If not, then our theory could still prove true…"

Opening the door, Rosen holds it open for Jax. "And if you had a shred of proof to back up that theory, my client would be locked up and you guys would be all over the evening news patting yourselves on the back. We're done here. Next time, make sure you have a warrant."

* * *

"_Penny for your thoughts." Squeezing Tara tighter against him, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. After all the strain and all the awful shit that they'd done to each other over the past couple of weeks, he'd worried if they'd ever find their way back this time._

_But fate had granted him a gift, giving him the chance to make right some of the promises he'd broken to her, the chance to spend these last magical hours with her before they're separated for a long time. But not even a long, looming prison sentence could dampen his jubilant mood; not when he knows she'll be waiting for him and then they'll be together again. This time for good._

"_Just a penny?" She arches a perfect brow as she smiles up at him. "This brain is worth more than that."_

_He runs his hands through her short, shiny hair. "You're right, Babe. I'd give you a billion dollars if I had it." Sliding his hands down her smooth back to her perfect ass, he cups those velvety soft globes. "As for the rest of you, there's not enough money in the world."_

"_You smooth talker," she giggles, tweaking his goatee. Then a shadow crosses her face and she looks away, biting down on her lip as a trace of hurt shimmers in her eyes._

"_What is it?" He cups her cheek, urging her to face him - although he's got a sinking suspicion of what might be troubling her. For the millionth time, he curses himself for hurting her with that goddamn whore. "I'm so sorry, Tara. I wish I could take it all back…"_

_She shakes her head and forces a trembling smile. "After what I did…I guess I can't blame you. Just tell me you didn't like her too much."_

_Rolling over so that she's pinned under him, he stares down at the girl he's loved forever. "I didn't like her at all…she wasn't even there. Babe, since the day I first saw you in that bikini, I've been fucking women with your face in my head. They're all you, Tara. There's no one else for me but you - never has been or ever will be. I may have realized that I loved you when I was sixteen, but I've been yours since the day we met."_

"_Me too, Baby." She strokes his face, pulling his lips down to her for a smoldering kiss. "I've been Jax Teller's girl since the first day you kissed me in first grade. And I always will be."_

* * *

"Thanks for dropping everything and getting here," Jax shakes Rosen's hand as they part ways in the parking lot; the near lifelong annoyance he's felt for Ben Rosen's snotty kid oddly absent for the first time. "I appreciate it."

The lawyer flashes him a wry smile. "That's my job. Although usually the DA's got more evidence before she starts spouting out wild conjectures. Must be something special about you."

"Yeah, I have that effect on people." Jax scratches his beard. "So what you said back there about Tara…could you get in trouble for it? I know hiring you was part of her original plan…when she wrote that stuff about me and The Club so our sons would go to Wendy if Tara went inside. But saying she hired you to fix the deal with Patterson…I've been lying to legal types my whole life, but lawyers like you…could be some bad shit."

Leaning against his car, Rosen runs a hand through his hair then looks at Jax with haunted eyes. "I didn't lie," he admits quietly. "Tara did come to see me that afternoon. Told me about the deal you made with Patterson and how her lawyer said the best you could hope for was parole in seven years. She wanted me to work with the DA to make sure you got that minimum time."

Floored, Jax stares at him. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I could claim Attorney-Client Privilege…" Rosen reminds him sadly. "But to be honest, it's not something I've found easy to live with…Since I found out she died that day, right after I saw her...All I keep thinking about is that I should've made her stay longer, took her out for a drink, bought her dinner, anything to stop her from going home…If she'd just stayed a little longer, maybe she'd still be…"

Jax shakes his head. "No, man. You can't blame yourself for what happened to Tara. She was planning to meet me at the house before I turned myself in to the DA then she was going to pick up the boys at the ice cream shop. You could've suggested all those things, but she wouldn't have stayed." He squeezes Rosen's shoulder before hopping on his bike and pulling on his helmet. "Besides, if I found out you asked my wife out on a date…I would've kicked your ass."

A small smile tugs at Rosen's lips as he nods slowly. "I did ask her out once…Right when she came back to town, you guys weren't back together yet. Turned me down flat. Always Jax Teller's girl."

"Always," Jax echoes feeling his lips twitch with an answering smile, which quickly fades as he watches Rosen drive away.

_"There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you._

"…_she came to see me after Jax made his deal…"_

So Tara had gone to see Rosen after she left the motel that afternoon…Jax pinches the top of his nose as his head starts to throb again. Rosen's office is in Lodi so Tara could've easily gone to see him on her way back home, but then how long was the window between the time she got home and when Unser showed up at Scoops? Had there been enough time for Wendy and Unser to murder Tara and Roosevelt then for Unser to drive Wendy to rehab and back?

Holy shit, what if Wendy hadn't lied when she recanted her claim of seeing Tara that day? Unease rocks him; he'd planned on killing that junkie bitch for what she did to Abel and Tara and to get her festering stench out of their lives for good - but the belief that she'd killed Tara had led him to choose such a brutal death for her.

He still believes that the selfish bitch had killed Tara, who'd replaced her in Abel's life; who else could possibly have such a strong motive to brutalize Tara like that? Shrugging his troubled thoughts aside, he starts his bike and speeds out of the parking lot.

There's only one man who can answer his questions.


	17. What Right in Front of You

**Chapter 16: WHAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU**

_Hanging up the phone, Jarry exhales loudly then stares down at her notes - a grim smile of satisfaction and determination spreading across her face. She's so close to confirming the suspicions that'd been gnawing at her since she discovered the connection between Eli and Juice Ortiz. So close…she can feel it._

_US Attorney Lincoln Potter, now working in Miami, hadn't heard about the brutal double murders that had rocked San Joaquin County; after his case to nail the Irish Kings and SAMCRO turned into a big pile of shit, he'd left California and never looked back. That said, she could sense from the protracted silence and the subsequent roughness to his voice that the news of Eli's death hit him hard._

_However - a lawyer to the core - Potter did question her focus on Eli's death when clearly the intended victim had been Tara Knowles; wasn't the late Sheriff just "collateral damage" in the doctor's brutal murder? "And maybe I'm a suspicious son-of-a-bitch to think this…but could it be possible that there's some political motivations at work here? To exploit the murder of a decorated law enforcement veteran in order to bring the death penalty back to California?"_

_No shit… The curt response sat on the tip of her tongue, but Jarry had remained silent; it was always about the politics with these assholes. But not for her. Eli had been a trusted mentor…and friend; she wanted his killer's head on a spike._

_Potter had responded to her silence with a rueful chuckle - as if nothing politicians did could ever surprise him. Then he told her everything that they'd done to force Juice to rat on his MC Brothers - the entrapment, the harassment, the blackmail - and it'd worked perfectly to Potter's plan; the weak link broke and gave them everything they wanted. But not without a price._

"_Eli wanted to bring down SAMCRO but, like all good men, he didn't like preying on the weak. He wanted to stop…but I pushed him, threatened him…just like he was doing to Juice. But it wasn't until Juice attacked Eli in the war room that I saw how bad it'd gotten between them, but I didn't care. We had a case to win, bad guys to take off the streets…_

_So there was bad blood between Eli and the young biker beyond the usual cops vs. scumbags animosity. Eli had some extremely dangerous shit to hold over Juice's head, but was it all worth killing for?_

"_To succeed at this job, we must do whatever's necessary…no matter how ugly or unfair our tactics may seem to others. I've tried never to beat myself up over anything I've done, Sheriff. But this…if Ortiz had anything to do with this…I can't help but feel my hand in what happened…If that sniveling coward killed Eli, I'm counting on you to make it right. Fry his ass."_

_And now she's a little bit closer to that goal. Motive for Eli, but what about Tara Knowles? Did the twitchy young biker hate Teller's wife, or Teller himself, with that much vicious intensity? Or…was there a reason why Gemma Teller-Morrow had given Juice an alibi besides protecting one of her own? Maybe they had been together…just not at SAMCRO's cabin preparing it for guests, as they both claimed._

_Maybe it's time for another go at Margaret Murphy, who'd been on vacation when her friend had been murdered; the woman had been too grief-stricken, and probably too terrified, to give them a truthful answer when questioned about who might want Tara dead. _

_Walking out of her office, she texts Cane to meet at her car for a trip to Charming. Only to find Nick Reese leaning against the wall next to her office door. Fuck, what had he heard? Jarry wasn't ready to share her theories yet; in her experience, these lawyers needed bullet-proof evidence laid out perfectly for them so they don't look like dipshits to the public. Hell, Patterson's still pissed about getting her ass handed to her by Rosen when she'd tried to railroad Teller into violating parole._

_Straightening, Reese pins her with those icy blue eyes. Even battered and bruised - with a Batman band-aid covering the cut on his cheek - the state's golden boy still exudes cool arrogance better than anyone. "So you think someone from SAMCRO killed Sheriff Roosevelt and Dr. Knowles?" _

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Jax barges into the hospital waiting room, where a mixed group of SAMCRO and Mayans mill around in nervous agitation. He'd been on his way to Gemma's when he got the anxious call from Alvarez; Nero had taken a turn for the worse. Making the turn for St. Thomas, he'd called Gemma and told her to move the come-to-Jesus lunch with Unser to dinner and then get her ass to the hospital; retaliation could wait a few more hours.

Pedro, the Mayan pretending to be Nero's cousin glances at Alvarez before responding. "The doctors missed a bullet. It didn't show up on the x-rays, and because of it Nero had a pul…pul…something." Wrinkling his brow, he turns to his Mayan Brothers. "What the fuck did the doc call it?"

"Pulmonary embolism…a massive blot clot in his lung." Mateo, the Mayan doc and former military medic, tells them. "Apparently it'd been growing even after his surgery."

Clenching his fists, Jax swallows hard. "Holy shit. Can they fix it?" The grim look on the man's face - on all their faces - gives him the answer he doesn't want.

"I want to see him!" Gemma screeches, lurching towards in the direction of ICU until Jax grabs her elbow and pulls her into his arms, holding tight. "Let me go, Jackson! I need to see him now!" She collapses against him, shrieking and sobbing uncontrollably.

Stroking his mom's back in a futile attempt to calm her, he glares at Pedro. "Make it happen." He knows that the ICU policy dictates family only - but family members could request exceptions in some cases, especially if the patient's terminal. Fuck, he can't go there - can't think about anyone else he loves getting wiped out because of this life.

But the speed at which the on-call doctor approved the visitation exacerbated his worry; as if the man's granting Nero's friends this last chance to say goodbye. As they walk into the room, Gemma tightens her grip on his arm, nearly cutting off circulation. Not that he can blame her; they've got some hideous memories of ICU - Tommy and JT, now this.

Jesus Christ…there's no fucking way that this old and frail-looking man covered by tubes and bandages could be strong, strapping Nero. It's only been two days since the shoot-out with the Niners; how could he have deteriorated this much, this fast? Cameron Hayes, may that bastard rot in hell, had been shot-up worse than Nero, but somehow Tara had saved his worthless ass. But then Tara had been an "exceptional talent" - or so he'd overheard Dr. Namid say the night she and the others had saved Abel's life.

They approach Nero's bed gingerly, torn between not wanting to disturb his rest and jarring him so that he'd spring up and assure them that nothing's wrong.

"Hi, Baby…" Gemma carefully picks up Nero's hand and gazes tearfully into his waxy, shrunken face. "It's me, Gemma." But it's as if she hadn't said a word - he doesn't stir at all; fuck, Nero's so still, if it wasn't for the monitor registering a weak, yet discernible heartbeat, Jax would've thought his friend was already gone.

He's not sure how long they stand there staring helplessly at the man who'd pretty much been a father figure for him and husband to his mother before Gemma finally loses her shit; sobbing loudly, she claws at his arms. "Wake up! You've got to pull out of this! Goddamn it, Nero…Please! I can't lose you, too. Please…"

To their surprise and relief, Nero's eyes open slowly - although it's short-lived comfort as he doesn't seem to notice either of them, focusing his glazed gaze on something in the distance only he could see. "You…were right…" Nero gasps weakly to his phantom guest. "…she kills…But I love…her…should've…married her…all her husbands die…least she didn't…kill me…"

What the fuck? Jax darts a confused glance at his mother, whose face crumples with horror - but before he can ask her anything, the jarring sound from Nero's heart monitor stops him cold. Rooted to the spot, he gapes at the flat lines spreading across the screen in crushed disbelief as the room erupts into chaos.

Although the roaring in his head grows louder, he can still hear his mother wailing as he watches the doctors try everything to bring Nero back. But to no avail - several minutes later, the room fades to quiet except for Gemma's choked sobs; Nero was gone.

* * *

Everyone has their own way of coping with grief - some choose to wear their sorrow like a big-ass neon sign, howling at the top of their lungs, intent on letting the world know and share in their pain; others prefer to tuck it away and go about their business as if nothing happened, determined to prove their fucking fortitude to all. And then there's the Teller Way, exemplified in fucking pathetic fashion by Jax and both his parents - pretending everything's so goddamn peachy while openly drowning in a shit-filled quagmire of booze, drugs and worthless sex.

So many times Tara had saved him from tumbling into that hell; as his friend, his Old Lady, his wife - she'd chased away the inner demons that threatened to consume him. One look into those beautiful green eyes glowing with love for him, one moment spent in her warm embrace - and he'd believe there's nothing in this fucking world that could bring him down.

But now that Tara's gone, he's barely coping as it is - fueled solely by the driving need to avenge her then get his sons clear of this toxic life that'd killed their mother. In the past couple of days, he'd found some solace in the time spent with his boys…not to mention exterminating the bitch that killed Tara. But losing Nero threatens to rip apart his fragile control; it was so goddamn senseless - Nero wasn't a soldier in the battle for the Oakland streets; he'd just been trying to help a friend. And now a good man's gone and a poor little boy - who life's already fucked over - has lost his father. Christ.

Jax'd told Bobby to take Gemma home then he'd run out of St. Thomas as if the ghosts of his dad and little brother were biting at his heels. Jumping on his bike, he'd thought fleetingly of heading to Diosa and revert to the Teller Way of coping with grief - another bottle of Jack, a dime bag of weed and the first available whore he saw, preferably one with dark brown hair and sparkling green eyes. But he'd dismissed the idea even before it left his head; the thought of fucking anyone else made him physically sick. No, there was only one place for him to go right now.

"_I can't believe you're doing homework…It's spring break!" Jax tugs at a silky strand of dark hair as Tara leans against him, pillowing her head on his bare stomach._

_They'd spent the first couple of hours here at their special place, a private lake side park at the base of Mount Walker, skinny-dipping in the unseasonably warm water. After holding him off for most of the week because she had to study for a big test, Tara had a lot to make up for - to him and his hungry dick. Which she did…and, holy fuck, then some. Shit, the first time, he'd come so hard that the Wahewas probably heard him screaming his pleasure from a mile away._

_Completely wrung dry (literally), he'd spread out a blanket under a big tree so that they could rest up for another round later; but Tara, being Tara, had pulled out a massive book from her backpack._

"_It's not homework; I'm done for the week." Stripping the jacket cover off the book, she waves it in his face - causing him to burst out laughing as he reads the title._

"'_Of Human Bondage'?" he hoots. "You're reading about S&amp;M? Babe, if you want to experiment…I got a rope with me; you can tie me up any time you want."_

_Rolling her eyes, she swats him on the arm with the book jacket. "Teller, you really shouldn't let your dick do all your thinking...It's a classic, written by a literary genius. We won't be reading it in English class so Mrs. Conroy suggested I check it out."_

_Jax's teasing grin fades instantly at the thought of dried up, crabby old Mrs. Conroy; the long time town librarian - who happened to be the Winston's other next door neighbor - hated his ass (even though he once spent a hot summer afternoon cleaning up her backyard - mainly because he and Opie blew up her prize watermelons with their prize fireworks, but she didn't fucking know that). He didn't like the idea of that mean old hag telling Tara what books to read - no doubt the list would include some shit about how the smartest, most beautiful girl in town could do way better than a high school drop-out who belonged to an outlaw MC._

_As if reading his thoughts (which Tara always seemed to do with scary fucking accuracy), she rolls towards him and brushes her soft lips against his. "Actually Baby, I think you might like it…" _

_Tara always says that when she talks about books with him; weird enough, she's rarely every wrong. Since they were little kids, she'd tell him about what she'd read or was currently reading or planned to read - and each time he'd get sucked in and wind up reading all the books himself. His Brothers were forever giving him shit about the books he'd bring on their runs - paperbacks that Tara would slip in his bag with little post-notes…"Think you might like this. I love you…come back to me safe and soon."_

Even before the Wahewas won their claim to take back this land, Jax's never seen anyone here; in all the times he'd come here, first with his dad and Tommy and then with Tara, he'd never see anyone else. It's surprising given the perfect terrain for camping, the cool shade trees and access to a small lake - but most people around here always flocked to Lake Camanche or Lodi Lake Park; when he wanted to hit the lake with his friends, that's where he went too. He reserved this place for Tara.

Now, anyone who wanted access had to get special permission from Chief Charlie Horse; the man's been more than a little crazed about protecting their borders since those Russian pricks invaded the reservation and killed one of the Chief's young cousins then held some women (not to mention Jax and Opie) hostage in exchange for guns. Lucky for Jax, JT had been good friends with the Chief's brother so Charlie had told him that he was welcome any time - especially once he got a look at Tara; the Chief had grinned knowingly and virtually high-fived Jax with his amused eyes.

Sitting under the tree, Jax lights a cigarette and takes in the breathtaking view - the lush green grass, the rolling hills with Mt. Walker in the backdrop, the crystal blue waters…it's been a while since he'd been here; not since he'd taken the gavel. Ironically, even though this would always be his and Tara's place, they never made here as husband and wife.

Despite Charlie's diligence in protecting the Wahewa land, Jax no longer felt safe sleeping out here in the open without his Brothers around; as SAMCRO's President, he had too many enemies - no fucking way he'd ever let Tara be vulnerable to them again, especially not after what happened with her hand.

She's here…he can see her stretched out on a blanket, reading a book; he loves how her brow wrinkles in concentration, loves the faint sprinkle of freckles across her nose, loves the soft smile and the pink flush that would spread across her face when she'd catch him staring at her like a lovesick puppy.

He can hear her laughing as he tries, with varying degrees of success, to spear a fish with his knife or attempts to copy some of her hard as fuck yoga positions and winds up falling flat on his ass. Since he was a little kid, he loved the sound of her giggles; it always made him happy.

"_You want to play what?" Snorting with laughter, he watches in amused disbelief as she opens her backpack and pulls out a small box labeled Travel Chess._

_She ignores his mocking skepticism and lays out the board on their blanket. "Come on Jax…I don't feel like reading right now; I want to do something together, and it's a little too cold for swimming."_

_Wagging his eyebrows, he shoots her his best panty-dropping leer. "I can think of better things we can do together…" He tugs her on to his lap then slides a hand up her shirt; loving her squeals of delighted protest, he squeezes a plump breast, rubbing a hardening nipple with his thumb. Amazing, they'd just fucked each other senseless half an hour ago, yet his cock's brick hard and ready for yet another round._

"_Oh, Baby, we'll get to that for sure…" She tweaks his goatee before sliding off his lap and starts to set up the board. "We can play Strip Chess…any time you knock out once of my pieces, I take something off." Smiling, she reaches over to rub the zipper on his tented fly. "…and vice versa. You want to play my game, Baby?"_

_Holy shit…how the fuck did he ever think he could live the rest of his life without this woman? He sends a million silent, heartfelt thanks to the powers-that-be in the universe for bringing her back to him. "Yeah," he croaks hoarsely. "I want to play…"_

Pulling out his flask, Jax gulps down the whiskey - welcoming the burn in his throat and his gut. He can feel her arms around him; he loves the soft strength of her hands sliding up and down his back, the delicious floral scent of her, the feel of those lush lips brushing against his ear. _"I love you, Jax. More than anything…"_

_He's got to admit it scares him a little - the idea of finally leaving SAMCRO, the only life he's ever known and the only future he'd ever planned (with Tara, of course). But he no longer wants to be part of what the Club's become under Clay's poisonous leadership, not any more. Granted all this shit with the cartel's partly his fault; he'd made the deal with the devil in exchange for his out because, after fourteen months in Stockton, he didn't want to risk getting torn apart from Tara and his boys ever again. And that's where staying with SAMCRO would lead, back in prison or death._

_So earlier today he'd told Clay that he's done; that after they come up with an exit strategy to get the Club clear of Galindo, he's taking his family out of this shithole - and finally give Tara the life he'd promised her, one where she didn't have to be afraid anymore._

"_What is it?" Wise green eyes peer up at him as a soft hand strokes his beard. "Not having second thoughts, I hope." _

_She'd been packing for her and the boys' trip tomorrow when he got home and surprised her with the double-shot of good news: he'd be going to Oregon with them and that he was out of SAMCRO. Ecstatic, Tara had rewarded him in mind-blowing fashion - as only she could._

_He presses a lingering kiss to that luscious mouth, ignoring the stirrings south-of-the-border. "Not a chance." Definitely no second thoughts, he wants the fairy tale too._

_But without his cut, without his VP patch - could he really take care of his family? Yeah, Tara's a surgeon now and could support them all with her eyes closed, but he needs to be the one to take care of her for a change - the little girl who'd raised herself into this amazing woman, despite her fucked-up parents. And while he was in prison, it'd killed him to know how hard she had to work to keep their family afloat on her small resident's salary. Never again - he wants more for her, more for their sons and all the other kids they'll have some day. He just needs to find the non-outlaw way of doing it._

"_Babe, when did you know you wanted to be a doctor?" He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear then runs his hand up and down her bare arm. "I mean, when did you know you'd be good at it?" Shit, could he sound more like an insecure pussy?_

_Her brows arch questioningly. "Wow, I didn't see that coming…Well, what I usually tell everyone is that I'd always liked the idea of helping people, and I was always really good at science and math in school…"_

"_You were good at everything in school," he reminds her. They've never really talked about it in-depth, but he knows why she chose to be a doctor, specifically a pediatric cardiologist - just not sure how long it took before she found her life's calling. How long would it take him? "We were twelve when Tommy died; did you know then?"_

_She looks away, as she always does when she needs to gather her thoughts - especially the ones that troubled her. "I didn't know anything about neo-natal specialty back then." She smiles sadly. "But afterwards I checked out every book in the library about CHD to see if there was anything I could've seen or done to…"_

"_Tara, there was no fucking way you could've prevented what happened to him. You were just a kid. Not even the doctors could save him." It horrifies him to think that she might've been carrying such guilt all this time; he knows his little brother would feel the same way - Tommy had adored her._

_Shaking her head, she presses a finger against his lips. "I know…it just took me a while to realize it. But I didn't read those books just for him…you had CHD, too." Her hand slides down to his chest to rest on top of his "Abel" tattoo. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you…So I wanted to be ready to see any signs that you were sick, just in case. I guess I was just lucky that I really liked all the medical stuff."_

_His eyes sting as he stares at the love of his life; to hell with feeling like an insecure pussy. "No, Babe, I'm the lucky one. I'm leaving SAMCRO without any regrets, but - to tell the truth - I'm a little anxious about what I'll do for the rest of my life."_

_She props herself up on an elbow and narrows her green gaze at him. "Jax, you're smarter than anyone I know. You always have been - just never gave yourself the credit…You can do anything, Baby."_

_Pulling her into his arms, he squeezes tight and buries his face into her silky hair. "With you, Tara. I can do anything when I'm with you."_

Stubbing out his cigarette, Jax stares at the lush green and blue landscape in front of him - where he'd spent some of the happiest hours in his life. Although, aside from the short bursts of joy he felt around his sons, he doubts he'll ever feel that blissful contentment ever again.

Now that he's finally avenged Tara, all he's got left to do is convince Unser to admit his role in killing Roosevelt in some dumbfuck attempt to protect Wendy; that'll blow to hell Reese's batshit crazy plan to pin the former Sheriff's death on him.

And then he'll tell his Club and his mother that he's done.

He'll stay long enough for Nero's funeral a couple of days from now, make sure that poor little Lucius Padilla is taken care of (although Alvarez had vowed that same thing) - then he's finally taking his family out of Charming for good. But without Tara by his side, could he actually make it through the day-to-day and be the father his boys need? He takes another long pull from the whiskey bottle and closes his eyes.

* * *

Before heading back to town, Jax texts Gemma and tells her to cancel dinner with Unser; she's been through enough today, he can question the old family friend alone.

Riding to Unser's place, he wracks his brain to figure out how the man had gotten so close to Wendy that he'd disrespect Tara like this? Even if he hadn't murdered Tara himself, didn't Charming's ex-police chief realize that covering up what Wendy did - protecting that worthless junkie bitch - makes him almost as guilty? Jax grits his teeth as he speeds up; fuck, if he didn't need that stupid shit to fry for Roosevelt's death…

He parks his bike next to Unser's truck and tries not to remember the last time he was here, crazed with fury and betrayal. Seems like a million years ago; he certainly feels as if he's aged that much.

"Hey, Wayne, open up!" Jax shouts after his first couple of knocks go unanswered; the man's got to be home, his truck's here and there's nothing around this goddamn place for miles. "I got to talk to you!"

There's no fucking way that Unser couldn't hear him knocking and yelling; even if he'd been asleep, he would've woken up by now. The asshole must be ignoring him, hoping he'd give up and go away. Not fucking likely. Jax tries the door, surprised that it's unlocked; shit, even as remotely as this trailer's located, the old cop's usually too paranoid to leave himself that open.

Stepping into the tiny trailer, Jax immediately spots Unser's crumpled body on the floor; blood seeping out from two holes in the man's chest. "Holy shit!" He pulls out his phone and calls Bobby, barking that the guys need to get to Unser's place now, fucking now.

Jesus Christ…who could've done this? Aside from shooting Roosevelt in a misguided attempt to protect a friend, the old bastard was harmless; hadn't put a criminal away since Hale became mayor and got rid of CPD in favor of using the Sanwa sheriffs. Fuck, the only one with a beef against the man had been Clay, and that son-of-a-bitch's getting ass-raped in hell. Bending over Unser's body, Jax checks the man's neck for a pulse while trying not get any blood on his clothes; no doubt Reese and Patterson would love to pin this shit on him.

His pulse's weak but still there, Unser's still alive. Jax grabs a blanket from the small bed and presses it tight against the man's chest to slow the bleeding. "Wayne…" He squeezes the man's shoulder, hoping to get a response - any response. The old bastard can't die…at least without admitting what he'd done. "Wayne, it's me…Jax."

Slowly the man's eyes flutter open. "Jax…," he gasps, coughing as blood spatters his lips. "…so sorry about JT…didn't know they were…going to kill him…" Christ, why was he bringing that shit up? Clay killed his Old Man, and Jax made him pay…for everything.

"It's okay, Wayne." Jax assures him, patting his shoulder. "Clay's worm food now, him and Lowell Sr."

Unser shakes his head, which brings on another coughing spell and more blood. "No…she…she made mistake…trusted wrong…" What the fuck was the man talking about? Jax doesn't have time for this; he needs Unser to admit to killing Roosevelt,

"Wayne, we know who killed my Old Man. I avenged JT…It's done. Now I need to know about Tara…Why did you let Wendy kill her? Why?!" Jax realizes he's clutching the old man's shirt and lets go. "How could you let her hurt Tara like that? You killed Roosevelt to protect Wendy…why? WHY?!"

The old family friend stares back at him before opening his mouth to respond; hopefully with the answer that Jax needs. But then suddenly, just like Nero this morning, Unser's gaze glazes over as he stares at something beyond Jax, who whirls around to look behind him - but nothing's there.

"Sorry sweetheart…" Unser wheezes, more blood gushing out of his mouth. "It's…all my fault…didn't know that she would…so…sorry…" The old man's body seizes violently then stills; his eyes open and sightless, but no longer fixed on some phantom guest - just like Nero.

Jesus Christ, for the second time today, Jax's watched someone die; the second time he'd seen someone talking to something only they could see. Although Nero's words had made no goddamn sense to Jax, Unser's seemed perfectly clear; he'd been apologizing to Tara for letting Wendy kill her. Which means he'd been at the scene - so either Wendy or Unser killed Roosevelt.

He can hear the roar of motorcycles approaching in the distance; his Brothers were here. Together they'll work out an iron-clad story that will convince Reese, Patterson and Jarry. It's almost over.

* * *

It took him and his Brothers a couple of hours to work the scene at Unser's, planting enough evidence to lead everyone to the right conclusion: that Wendy had murdered Tara, that Unser had shot Roosevelt to protect her - only to be killed later by his treacherous partner-in-crime, who'd wanted to tie up loose ends before skipping town. So the cops would look for Wendy - but they'd never find her.

Chucky and Rat had picked up the boys from daycare and fed them dinner; Jax had come home to find Thomas in the living room, laughing uproariously over some game Rat had devised involving Chucky's fake fingers and a plastic hammer. Abel had wanted to play alone in his room.

But Abel wasn't there when Jax checked, instead he finds the little boy in his and Tara's bedroom - holding the small redwood box where she'd kept her jewelry and all the letters Jax'd written her; he smiles as Abel slowly opens the top and peeks inside.

Walking into the room, he notices Abel's ever-present, ever-growing backpack on the bed. "You looking for something, Little Man?" Reaching into his pocket, he strokes the platinum disk from one of those necklaces; Abel's not the only one who feels the need to cart his memories around.

Startled, Abel drops the box, spilling the contents to the floor. Yelping in distress, he drops to the ground - pawing desperately through the necklaces, checking for damage.

"It's okay, Son. Nothing's broken…" Jax assures the distraught little boy, rubbing his shoulder. "Mommy wouldn't be mad, don't worry." Not that Tara ever got mad at her perfect little boy. "You know…" He picks up a jade pendant that he remembers giving her way back in high school. "I gave your Mommy all these...she kept them all."

Abel nods slowly then pops up to grab his backpack from the bed, plopping back down next to Jax with a thud. Opening one of the pockets, he pulls out another necklace - one that looks vaguely familiar.

"_Wow, that's new." Jax grins broadly after greeting his wife and sons with hugs and kisses, his eyes trained on the rather unusual piece of jewelry adorning Tara's slender neck. "You letting other men buy you jewelry now?"_

_Tara caresses the strand of green macaroni noodles lovingly. "Well, you know how much I love beautiful things." Ruffling Abel's hair with her free hand, she smiles down at the little boy, who beams proudly. "Especially from beautiful men."_

She'd worn the green macaroni necklace every day for a few weeks until Thomas accidently tore it in his usual exuberant, take-no-prisoners play mode; it'd been the only time he'd seen Abel upset at his little brother. But Tara had assured him that they'd make another one soon…although they never did. Something Abel apparently felt the need to correct.

"Did you make that in pre-school today?" Swallowing hard, Jax watches Abel carefully position the necklace in the velvet-lined box as if he's handling priceless emeralds; he's sure, for Tara, that macaroni necklace would be worth more than every piece of jewelry in the world.

Nodding, Abel helps him put the other necklaces in the box as well. "Mommy might want to wear it in heaven. She told me it was her fav'rite." Holy shit, how could he possibly respond to that? Fortunately, he doesn't have to as Chucky pops his head into the room to tell them that the cookies he's baking for dessert are ready. The news sends Abel - backpack in hand - racing for the kitchen; the kid loves chocolate chip cookies.

Exhaling loudly, Jax debates pulling out his flask once again. Every time he thinks each day might hurt less, he's totally fucking wrong. Rising to his feet, he notices the letters still scattered on the floor - apparently, they'd slipped out of the hair band Tara'd used to bind them together. Torn, part of him thinks he should toss them - would he ever be fucking able to read about all the hopes and plans he'd written to her while locked up in Stockton? How much he loved and missed her; how he couldn't wait until their family was together again…

Picking up each opened envelop, he tables that decision; Tara had loved the letters enough to keep them, he couldn't bear to throw them away for that reason alone. Frowning, he notices one of the envelopes that's so much different than the others - smaller, and marked with the unmistakable Air Mail stamp. His eyes widen as he recognizes his dad's handwriting and Maureen Ashby's name and address on the envelope. Holy shit; it's one of JT's letters to Maureen that Tara felt the need to keep; had he read this one? Had Gemma?

With slightly shaking hands, he extracts the letter from the envelope…did he even want to fucking read this? The letters that Gemma had given him were crushing enough, but Tara had kept this one tucked away with the rest of her prized keepsakes. He had to find out why. Scanning his dad's writing, Jax skips over all the declarations of undying love and devotion for her and Trinity; even though he's made peace with JT's memory and accepted his dad's other life, his other family - that didn't mean he wanted to dwell over any details. He's about to put the letter away when his eyes skid to a stop.

_Every day it becomes more clear that I don't belong here. I'm certain now that Clay and Gemma are together. They barely try to hide it from me. Gemma hates my apathy. She hates all of me. Her chill is terrifying. I know my days are numbered Mo, and when these letters stop you can be certain my death will come at the hands of my wife and best friend. At least my sweet Thomas will never suffer my life. I miss him so much. I only pray that Jackson finds a different path. He already reminds me so much of myself._

Jax feels his blood pressure spiking to the sun. Holy fucking shit! This was definitely not in the pile of letters his mother had given him - and for good fucking reason on her part. "…_you can be certain my death will come at the hands of my wife and best friend."_

All of the sudden, both Nero and Unser's haunting and confusing last words pummel his already throbbing head.

_"…she kills…But I love…her…should've…married her…all her husbands die…at least she didn't…kill me…"_

_"…so sorry about JT…didn't know they were…going to kill him…" _

Jesus Christ…Had Nero and Unser known that Gemma helped Clay kill his Old Man? Sure fucking sounds that way, he seethes bitterly; Jax wonders what other letters may not have made it to the pile his mother had given him. Rage swells inside him, boiling the blood in his veins. That bitch, that fucking bitch; she'd tried to use those letters to manipulate him - to exploit the explosive temper that's plagued him since childhood to get what she wanted from him.

"…_I know how dangerous secrets can be. And it's time we all knew the truth. Clay Morrow killed your father. Stole that seat away from this family. Gunned down your father's best friend. And he tried to kill your wife. He's a murderous traitor. And there's only one thing to do now, Jackson. For your father, your family and your Club. It's in you. It's who you are. Clay has to die. Read 'em. See him in your father's own hand. And then you kill him, Jax…And when it's done... you take your place at the head of this table... where a Teller belongs. Where you belong."  
_  
But not once did that treacherous bitch mention her own hand in JT's grisly death. It makes him fucking sick to think about all the hours they'd sat by his dad's hospital bed; how Gemma had clutched his hand and sobbed hysterically when John Teller gasped his last breath and his heart monitor flatlined…

He needs that fucking drink…but not here, not in front of his boys; no matter what, he'll never turn into that bastard Frank Knowles. Rising to his feet, he jams the letter into his pocket and stalks out of his bedroom, ready to tell Rat and Chucky he's headed out. But the doorbell rings, stopping him in his tracks; who the fuck could be coming over now?

"I got it," he tells Rat, who'd emerged from the kitchen ready to put himself between some stranger at the door and his Brothers and two precious little boys.

To his shock, he finds himself face to face with Nick Reese; this time without a posse of Sanwa sheriffs. "What the hell do you want?" Jax growls; he's got no fucking patience for the man's bullshit right now. Tomorrow morning, once Unser's body's found, he'll fill the prick in on the details. But now, he needs a bottle of Jack. Two.

The asshole prick opens his mouth to answer, only to slam it shut just as Jax feels a tug on his jeans from Thomas (a champion speed crawler) trying to pull himself up by clinging to his Daddy's leg.

"Cookie!" Thomas chirps happily, shoving the half-gnawed remains of a chocolate chip cookie into his sticky, chocolate smeared and crumb covered mouth. Despite himself, Jax can't help but smile back; just like his Mommy, Thomas seems gifted with the ability to diffuse Jax's explosive fury, even for a little while.

Picking up his baby boy, Jax nods at Reese, who's once again transfixed by the giggling green-eyed cookie monster. "You'd better come in."

"Sorry, Jax." Chucky shuffles into the room sheepishly. "I was trying to clean him up, and he got away from me…He's really fast. Oh, hi again," he greets Reese, recognizing him from this morning. "You want a cookie? They're freshly baked…"

Reese just gapes at him, obviously not expecting to encounter such a domestic scene at the SAMCRO President's house. "Um, no…but thanks."

"Are you here 'cause you need 'nother band-aid?" Standing in the kitchen doorway, Abel peers up at Reese. "I got lots."

Nodding, Reese beams a smile at the little doctor-to-be, touching the Batman covered adhesive on his cheek. "Yeah, that would be great. You were absolutely right this morning, I wouldn't want to get infected."

Grinning hugely, Abel whirls around to fetch more band-aids from his backpack as Jax starts to hand Thomas to Chucky to get cleaned up.

"Do you mind if I hold him?" Jax stiffens at Reese's request, Rat's eyebrows disappear into his hairline and Chucky's jaw drops open as he glances between the man's zillion dollar suit and Thomas' sticky, chocolate covered fingers.

Jax squeezes his baby tighter; if not for a few quirks of fate, this man might've been the father of Tara's children. It's enough to make him want to shoot the fucker right here in his living room. Then staring at Thomas, it hits him again how much his son looks like him - with Tara's eyes. Reese would never have that. Ever.

Nodding, Jax hands the sturdy toddler to Reese, who lights up with the smile he'd beamed at Abel twice today. "Hi Buddy. My name's Nick." Taking the wet towel from Chucky's outstretched hand, he starts wiping up Thomas' face then stopping to thank Abel profusely for the band-aids.

"You're a lucky man, Teller." Reese watches as Chucky finally herds the boys down the hall for bath and bed-time. "Those are two great kids…"

"Yeah." Jax crosses his arms, and glares at the asshole who'd promised him a lethal injection. "So you'll understand why I won't let your railroad me to death row. Tara wouldn't have wanted me to raise them from there."

Reese flinches but recovers quickly, stepping closer so he won't be overheard. "I'll cut to the chase…Jarry's got a warrant for one of your boys, Juan Carlos Ortiz. She's looking to pick him up on suspicion in Roosevelt's death. You got to tell me now, what you found out from that whore…is this guy involved?"

Jax narrows his eyes at the man he hates and distrusts more than anyone on the fucking planet; then it dawns on him that Reese may be spilling this intel so that SAMCRO would hunt down Juice before the Sheriff does. Jax hadn't told him about Wendy yet, so Reese must think if Juice's knows anything about Tara's murder, they needed a jump start interrogating the guy before Jarry finds him.

"Sheriff's going after Juice?" Jax's brow knits in confused surprise. "What's her evidence?" Although he's pretty sure what Reese will say; Roosevelt had fucked with Juice's mind for months, using Juice's black father to blackmail him into ratting on the Club. Shit, it'd screwed him up so much that he wound up murdering Miles to cover up stealing a brick then tried to kill himself. Yeah, if anyone would have a beef with the late Sheriff, it'd be Juice. But then he couldn't see Juice in cahoots with Wendy nor would he have had access to Unser's truck, which Colette had seen in the driveway right before Tara died.

Shrugging, Reese shakes his head. "Bad blood with Roosevelt. She talked to some former US Attorney today who convinced her that Ortiz might've had a stronger motive than the average street thug. So are you going to answer my question? What that whore told you…about the truck in your driveway, what does that have to do with Ortiz?"

"Nothing," Jax mutters. "Juice wouldn't have been driving Unser's truck. That day, the only people with access would've been Unser and my ex-wife Wendy." He could probably tell Reese about Wendy now, but he still doesn't trust the prick not to railroad him to the needle; he's got to stick with the plan. "My mother sometimes drives it, but not that day."

Reese's ears perk up as he searches Jax's face. "Ortiz has an alibi…Jarry doesn't believe it so they're looking to pick her up and question her again."

"Who is it?" Jax's not sure how to read the strange look on Reese's face; normally the man's so arrogantly poker-faced, except for the anger and hate he seems to reserve exclusively for Jax or the warm fondness for Abel and Thomas. He's never seen this look from the man before.

Exhaling loudly, Reese stares at him. Hard. "It's your mother. Gemma Teller-Morrow."


	18. Using Pain to Take You to the Next Level

**AN: Some of you may have noticed that all of the chapter titles from Part 1 &amp; 2 so far have been quotes from Jax. There are two exceptions in the chapters ahead, both spoken by influential people in his life - both good and bad - during some highly emotional moments. This is the first, can you guess who said it?**

"_**There you go, finding a hidden advantage in an unfortunate circumstance; using pain to take you to the next level. Those are the things that turn players into kings."**_

* * *

**Chapter 17: ****USING PAIN TO TAKE YOU TO THE NEXT LEVEL**

"_Where the fuck is everyone?" Jarry fumes. "Is this some unofficial perps' vacation week that I don't know about?" Two arrest warrants - one for Juan Carlos Ortiz for murder and another for Charles Barosky for drug trafficking - have gone unserved for hours as both men seemed to have vanished into goddamn air. And of course, none of their close "associates" knew shit about where either man could be. So fucking frustrating. _

_She's close, so goddamn close to getting justice for Eli - not to mention finally putting away the bastard who's been a cancer to Stockton law enforcement for decades. And those charges against Barosky could be upgraded to murder once she proves that the slimy son-of-a-bitch had Colette Jane executed at Women's County to keep her from ratting on him._

_So if this wasn't enough to make her want to beat the hell out of someone…the plans to talk to both Gemma Teller-Morrow and Margaret Murphy have gone to shit as well. When she and Cane had gone to St. Thomas to convince the hospital administrator to spill what she knew about Tara Knowles' relationship with her mother-in-law, the nurse at reception told them that Murphy had gone to a conference in Baltimore and wouldn't be back for a couple of days._

_It'd been a set-back, but not enough of one to keep her from questioning the bitchy biker queen providing Juice with his bullshit alibi; Jarry was determined to shred that into fucking pieces. Unfortunately, like the fugitive biker and dirty ex-cop, Mama Teller's gone missing; she hadn't been home so they'd gone to her son's house only to find the fake-fingered weirdo and surly young biker babysitting Teller's sleeping kids._

_Then they'd questioned the SAMCRO members found hanging out at the cream parlor that served as their crazy-ass clubhouse - a total fucking waste of time as none of them had shit to say that was of any use. The scarred, smooth-talking Scot had oh-so-politely offered to pass along any messages Jarry wanted to leave for Teller or Gemma. And she'd thanked him on-so-politely through clenched teeth, knowing all those tattooed fuckers were lying through their teeth. Assholes._

"_Maybe it's time to call it a night, Boss." Cane rubs his eyes after hanging up the phone. "I just checked in with Martinez and Eglee; nothing happening at Teller's or his mom's house or the ice cream shop, for that matter. We've got APBs out on Ortiz, Barosky and Gemma Teller that span four counties; we'll get 'em in the morning."_

_Jarry hesitates then nods reluctantly. It's late, they've been at this for what feels like years so a couple hours of shut-eye might do them all some good. But come hell or high water, those fuckers are going down._

* * *

"They find him?" Lighting a cigarette, Jax squints at Chibs through the smoky haze; at his Brother's grim nod, he exhales and closes his eyes.

It's been one goddamn mindfuck of a night - between JT's damning letter and Reese's bombshell, it'd taken every ounce of his self-control to keep from surrendering to his rage, hunting down Gemma and…Fuck, he can't go there. Not yet. After possibly jumping the gun in blaming Wendy, Jax needs to make damn sure this time; he can't afford to make any mistakes with his mother.

So he'd called Chibs and asked him to tell the guys to find Juice and bring him to the cabin - keeping it all on the DL, not only from the cops but also because he doesn't want Juice tipped off to what's in store for him. Then he'd asked Chibs and Bobby to meet him there so he could talk to them while they waited. With barely restrained fury surging through him, Jax needs his closest Brothers to help him deal with yet another fucking horror exacerbating the nightmare that's now his life.

"Tig and Happy are on their way here with Juice." Chibs announces as Bobby slides shots of whiskey in front of them. "FYI, the Sheriff's got eyes on Scoops, your place and Gemma's. Those guys are no' too subtle."

Bobby slams back his shot then narrows his eyes at Jax. "So because the Sheriff suspects Juice killed Roosevelt, you think he killed Tara, too? What about Wendy?" He reaches for the bottle to pour himself another shot. "Shit, Jax."

"I don't know what to fucking think." Jax glances down at his wedding ring; Tara was always telling him how smart he was, how he could do anything - not today, no today's he's the biggest goddamn idiot to ever walk the planet. "Juice told Jarry he had an alibi for the murders…he said he was with Gemma - who confirmed it." He downs his shot, welcoming the whiskey's burn while both Chibs and Bobby gawk at him in surprise. "Maybe he's telling the truth, maybe they were together, maybe the Sheriff's grasping at anything to hide the fact she doesn't have shit…But then there's this…" Reaching into his pocket, Jax pulls out his dad's letter and tosses it on to the table.

Bobby reaches for the letter first, his eyes widening in confusion as he reads the names on the envelope. "One of your old man's letters…pointing the finger at Clay if anything happened to him? You avenged JT; why are you still carrying these around?"

"Not just Clay…" Jax takes a longer drag of his cigarette. "I found this in Tara's jewelry box; Gemma never let me read this one…and for good reason. My old man believed that _both_ of them would kill him, Clay and _my mother_…" Bitterness fills his mouth, threatening to choke him as he watches Bobby then Chibs read the damning words.

Dropping the letter as if burned him, Chibs rubs his face with both hands. "Holy Christ…"

"Where are you going with this, Jax?" He can feel Bobby's eyes boring into him, as if trying to probe whatever murderous thoughts might be swirling in his brain. "You said you found this with Tara's things? Tell me you're not thinking that Gemma had anything to do with…"

"…killing my wife?" Jax spits out. "It's fucking impossible, right? But then…I wouldn't have thought in a million goddamn years that she would've been party to killing my old man…her own husband! The man she claimed to love." He sneers those last words as he crushes the paper in his hands. "And Tara knew all this shit; she had all the letters first…she must've kept this one knowing that Gemma would destroy the most damaging ones before giving them to me…"

Slamming his fist on the table, he shoots up in and starts pacing, the rage churning inside of him ready to explode. "I've been so fucking blind…Unser said Gemma was in bad shape before she took his truck, and Colette saw Unser's truck in our driveway right before Tara died…And all that bad shit between the two of them…It all fits, and I've been too goddamn fucking blind to see it!"

"And if you're right, she coulda been the one who killed Unser," Chibs deduces, shaking his head in disgusted disbelief - as if trying to grasp how a woman who'd been a close friend for decades could possibly be capable of such heinous betrayal. "To make sure he didna tell you she took his truck."

Jesus Christ. Jax plops back into his chair as Chibs' horrifying words sink into his brain; in all this fucking madness, he'd nearly forgotten about Unser. Could his mother be capable of killing her lifelong friend, the man who's loved her and stuck by her despite all the crazy shit in her life? The thought of it chills the blood boiling in his veins; if Gemma could gun down her best friend in cold blood just to save her ass, murdering Tara would've been nothing to her.

"We need to talk to Juice." Always the voice of reason, Bobby squeezes Jax's arm - no doubt highly aware of the violent fury burning so close to the surface, ready to erupt. "After he tells us what we need to know, then we decide what to do. JT…Tara…even Unser…they were part of us, part of what made this Club. Whoever killed them hurt us all."

Jax opens his mouth to tell them that he'll be the one deciding retaliation since no one's lost more than him - only to remain silent; he needs his Brothers support on something else. "After we finish this…no matter what happens…I'm done." Digging the heels of hands into his eyes, Jax can feel their intense stares searing his skin. "I need to do what I should've done a long time ago - get my family clear of this place, out of this life…if I had, Tara…she'd still be alive. My boys would still have their mother."

Looking up to face the two men who'd been his surrogate fathers even before JT crashed into that semi, Jax's somewhat surprised by their grim, yet knowing expressions - as if they'd been expecting this news for some time. But before he can say anything, the door bursts open as Tig shoves a bound and gagged Juice into the room.

* * *

"_I lied to you before." Reese brushes at the chocolate smudges staining his suit jacket, left there by a lively, sugar-fueled Thomas Teller, who'd been all smiles and delighted giggles as his new friend showered attention all over him and Abel._

_Eyeing Reese warily, Jax's not sure whether the guy's trying to remove the stain or rub it deeper into the expensive fabric. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me," he sneers wryly, shrugging on his sweatshirt and cut before heading for the door. Still reeling from the day's crushing blows, he's got no time for this fucking asshole._

"_When I told you that I never saw Tara again after I left her in Chicago…that wasn't true."_

_What the fuck? Jax whirls around to find Reese still standing in the living room, hands jammed into his pockets as something akin to pain spreads across his face. Just thinking of Tara having any recent connection with this son-of-a-bitch, and the savage jealousy that Jax'd somehow managed to control breaks free, scorching him like acid. Only remembering his sons getting ready for bed down the hall stops him from pulling out his gun and shooting Reese dead. Jax doesn't need any fucking reminders of this prick's life with Tara; she belonged to him._

"_When you were stabbed in prison, Tara visited you in the infirmary - worked with the prison doctor to make sure you received the best care possible. All off the record." Reese strides towards him, his cold eyes freezing Jax to the spot. "Have you ever wondered how she was able to manage that…a lowly medical resident from a small-town hospital?"_

_Barely conscious for the most part, Jax doesn't remember much from those dark days right after that Russian bastard shivved him; just the intense pain and Tara - her strong hand squeezing his, her soft voice whispering how much she loved him…How the fuck would Reese know about that? Unless… _

"_She told me that she got a favor from a friend." Jax hisses through his teeth as realization hits him like an ice cold blast; there was only one person Tara would've known with that kind of pull. "Any ideas who that could've been?"_

_Stepping closer until they're practically nose to nose, Reese narrows his eyes - the Batman band-aid standing out in odd contrast to his battered face and frosty gaze. "Things hadn't ended well between me and Tara in Chicago…and they didn't go so well when she came to my office - knocked up with your kid, begging me to help her get access to you. Can you imagine? I would've given her the world…and all she wanted was to take care of her convict baby daddy locked up in prison. It wasn't one of my more kindhearted moments."_

_Jax clenches his fists, fighting the urge to slam them into Reese's face at the thought of Tara, worried and desperate, at the mercy of this asshole's temper. "Yet you helped her anyway..." he grits out, more than ready to end this fucked-up trip down memory lane. The sooner Reese spills the rest of the shit he has to say, the sooner Jax can get to the cabin and get answers to the questions fucking with his brain. "Well the convict baby daddy thanks you…are we done reminiscing now? I got to go."_

_Reese opens the front door but stands in the threshold, blocking Jax's way. "I would've done anything for Tara…but the last words she ever heard from me - accusing her of throwing her life away..." He gazes pointedly down the hall towards the boys' bedrooms. "But I was wrong, Teller. I know what's important now…I hope you do, too. It's the least we can do for her."_

_Stunned into silence, Jax watches with mixed emotions as the other man Tara once loved walks out the door. Seconds later, he stalks outside towards his bike only to stop short when Reese turns around - despite the dim moonlight, Jax can see the cold fire glittering in the other man's eyes._

"_I'm going to fry someone for killing Roosevelt - there's no stopping that," Reese informs him quietly. "But from where I stand, you've got a solid alibi and no clear motive." The Chief Deputy Attorney General glances once more at the home Tara had created for her family before pinning Jax with an ice blue stare. "I still expect justice to be done…whoever took her from us - whoever hurt her like that - has to pay."_

Oh everyone involved with Tara's murder will fucking pay. Everyone.

Glaring into Juice's confused and panicked face, Jax pulls him to his feet then yanks out the rag stuffed in his mouth. "Have a seat." He motions to an empty kitchen chair, the quiet menace in his voice belying the gesture of hospitality. "We need to talk."

These past few days Jax hadn't given Juice much thought, hadn't paid much attention when Chibs told him that Juice's been twitchier, more distracted than ever. Chalking it up to the traitor's worry over what was going to happen to him for his disloyalty, Jax hadn't given a shit. After losing Tara, nothing fucking mattered except putting her killer into the ground and then getting his family out of this goddamn town. But now in retrospect, Jax should've corralled the fucker right after Colette told him about Unser's truck.

Well Juice's got his full attention now. "You know the Sheriff's looking for you?" Jax leans against the counter and crosses his arms, mainly to keep from beating the truth out of the Judas he once called Brother. "They think you might've killed Roosevelt…given your _history_ with him and all."

Juice's eyes widen then dart around to Chibs, Bobby, Tig, Happy…as if maybe, just maybe he could find an ally or - even better - a way out of this deadly snake pit. But his face falls and shoulders tense as if realizing from his Brothers' cold, implacable faces that there's no fucking escape.

Shrugging, Juice faces Jax with a puzzled innocence that reeked of pure bullshit. "That's fucked up, man." He forces a laugh and shakes his head. "That bitch has it in for me, Jax. I don't know why, but she's been all in my shit about this…I didn't have anything to do killing that cop. Hell, I wasn't anywhere near your house when…" He clamps his mouth shut, as if not wanting to speak Tara's name aloud and remember the horror of her death.

"Yeah, I heard you were with Gemma…right here in this cabin, or at least that's what she told the Sheriff." Jax lights another cigarette, again to keep his hands busy so they don't wrap around Juice's throat and squeeze the life out of the lying rat. "But there's a little problem with that story…I was hoping that you could help clear that up, since you were with her."

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he pushes away from the counter to stand in front of a clearly agitated Juice. Staring down at man he once called Brother, Jax doesn't bother to hide the accusation in his eyes or the rage steaming out of every pore. "There was a witness who saw Unser's truck right outside my house right as Tara came home, the witness even saw Roosevelt standing outside…You were there when Unser came to the ice cream shop and said Gemma took his truck…you went to look for her." His eyes probe Juice's now ashen face. "So now you see my problem? How could Gemma be here - at this cabin with you - when the truck she was driving was in my driveway?"

Juice's anxious gaze flits across the men hovering above him - silently begging someone, anyone, to save his worthless ass. "It's a mistake…the witness…whoever it was made a mistake…we weren't there…I swear, Jax…we…"

"Stop lying!" Jax roars, grabbing his terrified prisoner by the throat in one hand and pulling out his knife with the other. He presses the blade against Juice's cheek until blood trickles from the punctured skin. "You tell me the truth - right now - and I put this away…but if you lie to me again…" Jax lowers the knife until it's resting on Juice's crotch. "I slice your balls off and shove them down your throat...for starters. Are we clear?"

But Juice just gapes at him wordlessly until Jax nods at Tig, who's never backed down from any dirty work - no matter how fucked-up. "Jesus Christ...Stop! Goddamn it…Stop! Stop!" Juice screams, snapping out of his petrified stupor when Tig starts pulling open his fly. "Okay, okay…" Rocking back and forth, he starts to sob. "I'll tell you what you want to know…shit…oh shit…"

Jax watches impassively as Juice breaks down; maybe a long time ago he might've felt some pity for the younger man who'd tried so hard to fit in SAMCRO's dark world, but not now - not after what the bastard did to Miles, not after he'd ratted to the feds about Club business, not after he told Nero about Darvany…and definitely not after what the fucker's about to spill now. No, pity's not one of the intense, near-crippling emotions threatening to rip Jax apart; he knows now what Juice's going to tell them…he just needs to hear the goddamn words.

"I was with Gemma…that's not a lie…but we weren't here." Juice swipes at his wet face. "I got to your house, and Unser's truck was there - so I knew she was in the house. Roosevelt told me Tara was inside, too…and then it all happened so fast…We ran inside…there was blood everywhere…Tara was dead…Gemma'd killed her…said that Tara had ratted on you so she had to die…I'm sorry, Jax…oh Christ…" He rubs his eyes hard, as if trying to rid his brain of that horrific, blood-drenched scene - no doubt the same one that replays in Jax's nightmares every time he closes his eyes.

It's agonizing enough to suspect that his mother might've killed Tara, but to hear definitive confirmation…holy fucking shit! Growing up in SAMCRO, it'd been drilled into him since he got his Prospect cut to be ready to deal with any eventuality since life in the MC would never be ordinary. But nothing, fucking nothing in his whole goddamn life's ever prepared him for this - that the person he loves most in the world died brutally at the hands of the mother he's adored since birth. And for what? To keep his goddamn ass out of jail?

Desperately trying to hang onto his composure, despite the explosion of pain and rage torching every cell inside of him, Jax grips the closest chair, curling his fingers around the wood so hard he can feel the splinters digging into his skin. "And Roosevelt?" He hisses, barely able to hear himself over the roaring in his head

"I shot him," Juice admits quietly, almost proudly, as he straightens in his chair. "He was going to call it in, arrest Gemma." He stares at Jax imploringly. "I had to protect The Club. I thought that's what you would've wanted."

Jax's whisper thin control over his temper snaps as he lunges for Juice, hurling the cuffed man to the floor - ironically where Wendy's worthless life ended just a few days ago. But although Jax doesn't have any more mercy for Juice than he did for that fucking junkie bitch, he still needs the lying fucker for one more thing.

Shaking his head in outraged disbelief, he glares at Juice wriggling around on the floor like a fucking worm on a hook. "You thought I'd want you to cover up for the monster who murdered my wife? And then lie to me about it?! You sick piece-of-shit!" Unable to contain the volcanic burst of fury, Jax delivers a series of vicious kicks to Juice's ribs and back until Bobby drags him away, reminding them all that they can't kill a Member without a vote.

"So let's vote," Tig jumps in, his deadly blue eyes gleaming with malice as he raises his hand. "Aye!" He casts a vote echoed almost immediately by Happy.

"No, I don't want to kill him," Jax snarls, squatting on the floor beside the man writhing in pain and coughing up blood. "Listen to me, and listen carefully…No fuck-ups this time, or I will kill you - vote or no vote." He taps the Men of Mayhem patch on Juice's cut. "You want to protect The Club? Be worthy of this patch?" At Juice's slow nod, Jax pulls out his knife once again, this time to cut the rope binding the other man's hands. "Then this is what you have to do…"

* * *

"_What do you mean you can't find your brother? Are you fucking kidding me?" His mom's eyes widen with fear and frustration. "Goddamn it, Jackson. I ask you to watch him for five minutes and…Jesus Christ!" She grabs his hand and starts marching down the sidewalk calling out Tommy's name._

_Jax bites his lip, trying to rein in his own worry as he hurries along, trying to match his mom's long strides. She'd asked him to watch his little brother for a few minutes while she went into the drug store to pick up some "woman stuff" for Luann before they head to dinner at the Delany's house. Since Jax hated the smell of that place, he'd eagerly agreed to wait outside; besides, he's ten now - totally old enough to take care of himself and Tommy. Although maybe not. He'd walked away for a few minutes to admire a Harley parked down the street, assuming Tommy would follow him. But when he'd turned around to point out the super-cool custom work, his little brother had been nowhere in sight._

"_I saw him go into the food mart." Floyd steps out of his barber shop and points to one of the stores across the street. "Nearly had a heart attack watching him run into traffic like that…" His mom's mouth drops open while Jax's stomach jumps into his throat. Oh crap, Tommy had crossed the street by himself - which means Jax'll be grounded until the next century._

"_Why the hell would he want to come in here?" She mutters, stalking through the door with Jax at her heels. The store's tiny so they don't even bother splitting up to look for him, especially when the clerk looks up from her magazine to point towards the refrigerated section._

_Walking towards the back wall, they can hear the giggles almost instantly…Tommy's and a female friend. "Now what do these boxes say?" Jax releases the breath he'd been holding at the sound of the familiar voice - Tara Knowles. He should've known; Tommy's been chasing after her since he learned to walk. His little brother must've seen her walking into the store and raced across traffic to be with her while Jax was drooling over the Dyna._

_Turning the corner, he can see Tara - basket in hand - with Tommy trotting beside her like an eager puppy. "Eggs!" Tommy pipes up proudly. "Butter!"_

"_Wow, I didn't know Tommy could read," Jax grins proudly; judging from the stunned look on his mom's face, she didn't know either._

"_You are the smartest kid in the world, Toms. We need eggs and butter to make our cookies." Tara ruffles his hair then straightens when she notices them standing there. "Oh hi, Mrs. Teller. Hi, Jax…" Turning back to the little blond boy at her side, she squeezes his shoulder. "Your mommy and big brother are here. They must've been looking for you."_

_But to Jax's surprise, Tommy scowls at them then presses closer to Tara's side. "I wanna stay with you." He whines, burying his face in her sweatshirt._

"_Thomas Wayne Teller!" Oh damn…it's Gemma Teller's 'I've had enough of your shit' voice that could scare monsters. "Get over here right now! It's time to go." Her annoyed glare follows the pouting four-year-old as he trudges across the floor towards them then snaps back to skewer Tara. "What are you doing here by yourself? Where's your father?"_

_Jax clasps Tommy's hand then shrugs helplessly at Tara; clearly his mom wasn't in the know about Old Man Knowles. Opie told him that, since Tara's mom died a couple of months ago, her dad didn't do shit except go to work and then to the bars in Lodi - if he wasn't already passed out drunk at home. So Tara pretty much had to do everything by herself, which really wasn't too different from when her mom was alive._

"_Worthless sack of shit…" Jax's not sure whether his mom's talking about the driver who'd just cut them off, forcing her to slam on the breaks, or if she's still seething about Tara's old man - at home to "fixing stuff" while his kid walked two miles to buy their groceries. It's not anything he didn't already overhear Mary and Piney grumbling about on a weekly basis, but Tara's got no other family, so it's either staying with her drunk asshole dad or go into foster care. After the scandal in Stockton last year when some foster kids died, no one wanted to suggest it for Tara._

_On the bright side - his mom's so pissed at Tara's old man, she'd forgotten that Jax'd temporarily lost his little brother (at least he hopes so)._

"_Rain!" Tommy squeals, bouncing up and down in his car seat as a torrential downpour bursts from the sky, plastering their car with thick sheets of pounding water. Frowning, Jax stares gloomily out the window. Shit, there goes racing bikes with Opie and Lowell; Otto had promised that they could go to the dirt piles after dinner and he'd give them some tips. No way his mom's gonna let them do that in the rain._

_Then suddenly he feels the car turning around. "Where we going?" Mystified, he watches as she expertly maneuvers the steering wheel with her gaze glued out the window. Shaking his head, he settles back into his seat and closes his eyes; she'd been bitching about being late to Luann's dinner, now she wants to make another stop? Dad's right, there's no understanding women._

_Minutes later his eye snap open as they careen to a stop and his mom rolls down her window. "Get in," she barks at someone who Jax can't see from his passenger side view. "I don't give a fuck about getting shit wet. Just shut up and get in this car…Right now!"_

_The back door swings open and - to his surprise and Tommy's delight - Tara climbs inside. Soaked to the skin, she sits on the edge of the seat with her sodden grocery-filled backpack on her lap, as if trying to limit the amount of space she drenches with her wet clothes._

_It's a short drive to Tara's house - actually too short. Forgetting he's a grown man of ten, Jax can't stop laughing as Tommy and Tara belt out some stupid song about cookies that his little brother learned on "Sesame Street." Twisting around in his seat so he can watch them, Jax darts a glance over at his mom - surprised to see her fingers tapping in rhythm on the steering wheel; who knew the tough-as-nails Queen of SAMCRO had a soft spot for Muppet music._

_The rain stops as abruptly as it started, just as they pull into Tara's driveway. Determined not to keep them from their plans any longer, Tara pecks Tommy quickly on the forehead then scrambles out of the car - thanking them profusely for the ride. Hauling her soggy backpack over her shoulder, she starts walking towards her front door only to turn around and flash the smile that always makes his heartbeat kick up a notch and his bones feel all warm and melty. Most of the time she saves that smile for Tommy, but this time those warm green eyes fix on his mother…and oddly enough, Gemma Teller smiles back._

"Hey, Buddy…" Jax squats in front of Tommy's grave marker, running his hand across the smooth stone. After the crushing confrontation with Juice, he'd ordered Chibs and Happy to stick tight with Juice at the cabin and Bobby and Tig to track down Gemma. When they'd insisted on tailing him, Jax'd snapped that they needed to find her before the cops did. In the meantime, he had to handle something personal.

"For the first time, I'm actually glad you're not here to see all this crazy shit...But if you knew what she did to Dad and Tara…" His voice hitches as his tortured brain once again flashes back to holding Tara's lifeless body - her blood seeping through his clothes, staining his skin - then the heartbreaking, brutal crime scene report with the x-rays of her fractured skull. Both his father and his wife suffered protracted, excruciating deaths at the hand of the woman he once called mother.

Wiping the wetness from his eyes, Jax grips the marker tightly, as if squeezing his baby brother's hand. "I just hope you understand…what I have to do next."

* * *

"_What are you doing up here? I've been looking everywhere for you." Jax strides across the rooftop to where Tara's huddled on the ground, knees pressed into her chest. Plopping down next to his girlfriend of exactly three-and-a-half months (or so she announced this morning right before gifting him with a very special "wake up" present that's left him half-hard all day), he wraps an arm around her and presses a kiss to her forehead._

_Remaining silent, Tara just burrows against his chest, setting off alarm bells in his beer-fogged head. "Babe, you're still not upset about before, are you?" Although he's got a sinking feeling that he knows the answer._

_It's the first Club party he's taken her to since getting his Prospect cut a couple of weeks ago; Jax's still not sure how much he wants her exposed to SAMCRO and the realities of life in the MC. Still reeling from all the shit he's learned so far, Jax's not saying or doing a goddamn thing that could send her running from him. But tonight's a special occasion - Bobby's birthday, an annual bash his Brothers look forward to every year. Besides, his mom had specifically asked him to bring Tara - which should've been his first clue that shit would go sideways before the end of the night._

_His girl had been both ecstatic and fretful that Gemma Teller, Queen of SAMCRO, had specifically invited her - even asked her to bring to bring something they could serve to the guests, like all the other Old Ladies (even though Tara wouldn't be an Old Lady until he got patched-in). He'd smiled at her excitement, but her anxiety had baffled him. _

"_Tara it's just a party…we throw them every week, it's no big deal." Sitting at her kitchen table, he'd both laughed and rolled his eyes while she scrambled around like Betty Crocker on steroids. "Besides everyone's going to be fucking wasted - I don't know why you're so freaked out over pasta…" _

_Actually 'freaked out' might've been an understatement given the hours she'd spent researching recipes then parking herself in the kitchen last night to make the "perfect" lasagna (instead of paying attention to her poor, sexually deprived boyfriend). It's especially crazy since she barely knows Bobby, only meeting him for the first time a couple weeks ago at Jax's Prospect party. Then to top off the shit show, he had to drive a cage to the Clubhouse because she couldn't carry the dish on the back of his bike. Christ, who knew he'd be so pussy-whipped at sixteen?_

"_You said your mom wanted me to bring something," she'd reminded him as they walked across the parking lot to the Clubhouse. "Opie told me that Bobby likes Italian food, and lasagna's his favorite." Stopping in the doorway, she'd gazed up at him, her beautiful green eyes wide and worried. "You're sure it tasted okay? You didn't just say that just to be nice?"_

_He'd laughed and tried to soothe her wrinkled forehead with his thumbs. "Babe, I don't think there's a soul in town who'd accuse me of being nice." And to prove his point, he'd devoured her mouth until all the whistles and catcalls had her blushing and pushing him away._

_Speaking of someone no one would ever describe as "nice," Gemma had glared at the covered pan in Tara's hands with ill-disguised annoyance. "Oh…I already made Bobby's favorite." Nodding towards the half-dozen pans of lasagna already laid out on the tables, his mother had taken the pan from Tara and turned to walk towards the kitchen. "Come with me. This can go in the fridge in case we run out." _

_Jax had gone to greet Bobby and had just accepted a beer from Clay when a loud crash had him running towards the kitchen. Apparently Tara's lasagna never made it to the fridge; instead the kitchen floor looked like a grisly crime scene with blood red sauce, meat and pasta noodles splattered everywhere - and Gemma wiping her hands with a dish cloth, apologizing for being so "goddamn clumsy."_

_One look at Tara's crestfallen face then the satisfied gleam in his mother's eyes and Jax's temper threatened to burst out of his skin; only Tara's hand on his arm and her cool voice insisting it was an accident had stilled the anger building inside him. Then she'd speared SAMCRO's Queen with blazing green eyes before politely asking for a mop to help clean up the mess. After fifteen years of her father's tender mercies, it'd take more to faze his girl than Gemma's bullshit hazing. Or so he thought._

_Cupping her face, he feels the wetness on her cheeks and frowns. "Hey, what's this? Come on, Tara…You said it was an accident. Did something else happen?" He'd tried to keep her with him for most of the night, an impossible feat given how many times he had to run and do his Brothers' and his Mother's bidding. Had Gemma or anyone else messed with her while he wasn't looking?_

"_You and your mom have always been so close…" Tara pulls away from him and swipes at her eyes. "I know you listen to her - what she says means a lot to you…" _

_Where the hell's she going with this? Confused, he scans her face trying to read what he can in the dim light. "Babe, what are you talking about?"_

"_Everything I do and say is wrong." A fresh wave of tears spills down her face. "She hates me, Jax. Your mom hates me. She thinks I'm wrong for you. I'm just afraid that she'll convince you that…"_

_Shaking his head, Jax hauls her into his arms. "Stop right there, Knowles." He runs his fingers through silky dark hair then pulls back to scowl fondly at her. "I've always thought that you're the smartest person I know…but Babe, if you honestly believe that my mom could change the way I feel about you…well then maybe you're not so smart after all."_

_Tara sniffles then blinds him with a smile so bright that he's still a bit dazed when he feels those nimble fingers plucking at his fly. "I love you too, Baby." She rubs her hands up and down his bare dick then pulls the condom out of his back pocket before sliding his jeans down his ass._

"_Here?" Jax grins then darts a quick glance down at the drunk revelers down in the lot below, anyone could look up and see them…not that he gives a shit, he decides as Tara hands him the condom so she could strip off her camisole and shimmy out of her cutoffs and panties._

_Stretching out atop their discarded clothes, she licks her lips then shoots him a saucy smile as he slides the condom over his stiff cock with eager fumbling hands. "Come here, Baby," she beckons, wrapping her arms and legs around him - moaning loudly when he slams inside of her again and again._

_Jax's known happiness before, pleasure too. But nothing, fucking nothing in his life - past or present - could ever remotely compare to what he feels when connected to Tara. Burying his face between her breasts, he sucks a lush mound into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the thick pink tip._

_Her fingers tangle in his hair, as he suckles her other breast, licking and lashing at the ultra-sensitive rosy nipple. "Oh fuck, Tara…" Jax hisses as she spreads herself wider to rub her clit against him - meeting his hard thrusts until she screams, scorching his cock with a flood of soaking heat._

"_Jax, oh god, Jax! Jax!"_

"_Goddamn it, Jax…."_

_The last voice didn't sound like Tara, but he's too far gone to give a fuck - not with her hands clenching his flexing ass, pushing him deeper inside of her until he explodes, collapsing on top of her - not with her wet spasms squeezing and milking him until he's bone dry and gasping for air._

"_You two need to get dressed and get your goddamn asses down to the party." Despite his near inability to move a muscle, Jax rolls his eyes at his mom's disapproving tone. Like she's some moral pillar - fucking Clay a week of JT getting put into the ground. "And Clay's looking for you…Prospect," she grits out, reminding him of his responsibilities before storming off._

"_Yeah, she hates me all right…" Tara buries her face in his shoulder, no doubt horrified at getting caught having naked sex out in the open by her boyfriend's mother._

_Summoning his last scraps of strength, he rolls them over on to their sides so he can stare into that gorgeous face. "Don't worry about her…I love you, Tara. That's never going to change." He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and caresses her velvety cheek. "I promise, Babe. She'll never come between us. Not ever."_

Turning towards the rosebush he'd planted just days ago, Jax reaches over to stroke one of the soft petals; maybe it's his imagination or a trick by the moonlight, but the bush looks thicker with more roses - larger and lusher - blooming from the branches. It wouldn't surprise him if the bush had flourished, planted atop Tara's ashes; she always made everything so much better.

* * *

"_Whoa, where's the fire Little Man?" Closing the front door, Jax steps aside just in time to prevent Abel from barreling into his leg. He loves coming home to the excited welcomes from his soon-to-be-wife and kids, but judging from the cotton balls and band-aids that'd dropped from Abel's hands, this wasn't one of those greetings._

_Shrieking with distress, Abel drops to his knees and scrambles to gather all of his spilled supplies. "Gramma got an ouchie. I help Mommy." With that rushed explanation, Tara's little blond helper dashes into the kitchen._

_Life's never boring at the Teller house; Jax sighs as he stalks into the kitchen to see this injury for himself. Hopefully it's not too serious; Tara's still adjusting to her cast, there's no way she could actually stitch anyone up with just her left hand. Gemma should know that _

_Actually he's a little surprised to see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with Tara - just like old times; ever since the series of mindfucking events that kept them from leaving Charming and led him to taking the gavel, Tara and Gemma's relationship deteriorated to a point worse than ever before - forcing him in the middle, again._

_But from his vantage point in the doorway, there's no trace of their usual animosity; most likely because of Tara's unspoken, yet firm rule that there be no fighting or raised voices in front of the boys; Frank Knowles' daughter didn't want her sons to know the fear and stress that angry adults could inflict._

"_Hi Baby." Pouring some liquid into a small bowl, Tara looks up and beams at him before turning back to Abel, who's bouncing up and down with cottons balls in each hand. "Ok, sweetie, dip those cotton balls into this bowl. Carefully, just like this…" Tara instructs the world's youngest nurse. "Then we'll use them to clean Grandma's ouchie."_

_Pecking Tara's lips and ruffling Abel's hair, Jax's eyes then dart back to his mother, whose holding a rag to her hand. "What happened?" He strolls over to Thomas, who's sitting in his high chair gobbling goldfish crackers, and presses a lingering kiss to his baby boy's head._

"_Stupidity," Gemma answers flippantly, nodding towards a package and small knife. "I couldn't open that damn box."_

_Shit, it doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to see his mom's high again; she's been like this since all that shit went down with Clay…But unlike Tara, who's got no patience for his mother's downward spiral, Jax can't help but feel some pity for everything she's gone through. No longer Queen of SAMCRO - with no husband and no money - Gemma Teller-Morrow clearly has no idea what to do with the rest of her life, aside from getting drunk and get high every night._

"_Now press the cotton ball to Grandma's finger…Softly so you don't hurt her…" A smile tugs at Jax's lips as he watches Abel - his brow furred with concentration - carefully dabbing at the small cut with the four soaked cotton balls he'd lined up on a plate. _

_Gazing at Tara, Jax feels his pulse actually skip a beat at the sight of her beaming proudly at her little intern. "And once it's clean…what do we do next?"_

"_Band-aid!" Abel chirps excitedly, waving the thin strips in his hand - and thrilling his little brother as well; Thomas tosses his crackers aside to reach for the brightly colored adhesive decorated with Batman logos. _

_But Abel shakes his head firmly. "No, Tommy. Only for ouchies…" Then with Tara's help, he carefully unwraps the band-aid and affixes it to his Grandma's finger. "All better now."_

_All better now - or so he hopes this could be the start of his Old Lady and his mother turning around their relationship again. Surely it means something that Tara would let Gemma crash on the futon in Thomas' room while she made dinner. Usually Tara didn't want the boys exposed to anyone obviously drunk or high - understandable given her own childhood, but for some reason, she'd wavered today._

"_It's her anniversary…" Tara reminds him quietly, stirring the spaghetti sauce while he empties the noodles in the boiling water. "Hers and Clay's. So I called her and asked her to come over…said I needed help opening that box. Fortunately, she didn't kill herself driving over here."_

_Who knew the bad-ass President of SAMCRO could still feel all warm and melty inside? Christ, she's been doing that to him since grade school. Pulling her into his arms, he fuses his mouth to hers, consuming her until they're both shaking and gasping for breath. "How could I forget?" He squeezes her ass. "My girlfriend showed up with nothing on under her totally sexy dress…Saved me from what could've been one of the worst nights ever."_

_Cupping her cheek, he stares into those mesmerizing eyes. "I love you, Tara. I know it's totally selfish, but I'm so glad you decided to stay…I don't think I could do any of this without you here."_

_She tweaks his goatee before brushing her lips against his. "I love you, too, Baby. And to be honest, I don't do too well without you either. Our family needs to be together."_

"_Totally agree…" He nips her plump lower lip. "And now we've established that, maybe we can start talking about…you know, adding to our family." Reaching for her hand, he presses a kiss to her knuckles. "We're still missing our little dark-haired girl…Come on, Babe - the world needs another beautiful, brilliant Tara Grace."_

_Tossing her head in a fit of giggles, she swats his arm lightly. "Jax…I do want another baby with you. But maybe we should wait until I can use both hands, okay?" She taps her thick cast. "Otherwise, you'll be doing all the diaper duty."_

"_As for your mother…" She tilts her head in the direction of Thomas' room, where Gemma's passed out. "I'm willing to cut her some slack…Believe it or not, but I love her too. She meant a lot to me while you were inside, but I can't risk our sons' safety...or any other child we have. You know what I mean, Jax…" Her fingers brush the President's patch on his cut. "The night you took over the Club, sat in the President's chair…you promised me that you'd never forget your family. That no matter what, you'd put us first. I trusted you then, Baby, and I trust you now."_

"I'm so sorry, Babe. I should've listened to you a long time ago…" Jax rakes the cool soil with his shaking fingers. "There's nothing I wouldn't give to make this right, Tara…I just wish I would've taken you and boys out of here before…I just didn't want to believe that my own mother could ever…I'm so sorry…so goddamn sorry…" Feeling his composure crack apart, he buries his face into his arm, shaking uncontrollably.

His cell phone buzzes with an incoming text, this one he doesn't ignore. Pressing a kiss to a patch of green grass edging the rosebush, Jax exhales loudly before rising to his feet. "I love you, Tara. More than anything."

* * *

Ironically Clay had been the one to teach him the finer points of lying in wait for a victim. Jax'd been a Prospect for almost six months when SAMCRO retaliated against a group of Mayan soldiers who'd attacked and killed three Nomads carrying a new shipment of AK's up to Tacoma.

"_Surprise is the key…and the challenge. They know we're coming - they're expecting it, they're ready for it. But what exactly are they ready for? If we know that, then we know the adjustments we have to make so we can surprise the goddamn shit out of these fuckers."_

Lighting a cigarette, he watches her approach. First she glances towards JT's marker, like she always does when they're here. Before, he'd believed it'd been for the same reasons he'd gravitated to that and Tommy's graves - to say hello, to tell them how much they're missed every day. But now Jax wonders what goes through her evil, fucked-up mind when she looks at his father's grave, knowing that she helped put him there.

Upon leaving the cabin he'd called her, told her to meet him at Tommy's grave and not to say anything to anyone. He told her that the Sherriff's looking for him, staking out his house - and hers - as well as the ice cream shop so they can arrest him. But those cops wouldn't think to look for him in the cemetery. No one would.

"Hi Baby." She stands in front of Tommy's marker and brushes her hand across the stone. "Jax? Are you here?" No doubt she can smell his cigarette…which is fine, it's good that she know he's here. Just not what he plans to do to her.

Stepping out from behind the tree, Jax silently sidles up behind her and exhales a cloud of smoke into the air before breathing into her ear. "Hello, Gemma."


	19. The Last Piece of a Very Broken Past

**Chapter 18: ****THE LAST PIECE OF A VERY BROKEN PAST**

"_What the hell are you doing here?" Jarry crosses her arms and glares as Reese rolls down the window of his black SUV. She'd been walking out of St. Thomas after yet another one of Patterson's bullshit errands when she saw the Golden Boy's gleaming Range Rover - Nick Reese exceled at many things, blending into the background wasn't one of them. "Did Patterson send you to check up on me?"_

_Walking into her office this morning, Jarry had barely sipped her coffee before a deputy popped his head in to tell her that the DA was on the phone. After the terse call with Patterson, it'd taken all her self-control not to hurl the full coffee cup against the wall - yet another goddamn delay. She'd planned to get the status on the search for Ortiz and Barosky then hopefully roll out with the squad to tag one or both of those fuckers. But no, Patterson had ordered her to head to St. Thomas immediately; apparently Stockton PD had finally matched one of the bullets found at the Mayan Clubhouse with those recovered from Nero Padilla._

_The DA wanted her to question Padilla in hopes that the ex-con, while doped up on painkillers, might slip up and divulge SAMCRO's involvement in the "deadly" shoot-out which, to date, hasn't produced any victims (that Stockton PD could find) - or so Jarry reminded her, to no avail. Patterson's still determined to lock up Teller - supposedly to save Sanwa County from his murderous retaliation, but now Jarry wonders if the DA's still pissed that Rosen managed to extract the SAMCRO President from the deal to turn himself in for the school shootings._

_Well it's all moot now; apparently the DA and the Sanwa Sheriff's Department need better connections at the area hospitals because Padilla died yesterday and no one at St. Thomas gave a thought to alerting law enforcement. The news sent Jarry's already crap mood spiraling further down the shitter; no doubt Patterson will chew her ass for not leaving a man at St. Thomas to watch Padilla - even though Reese specifically ordered them to drop this in order to focus on nailing Dr. Knowles' and Roosevelt's killer(s). What a fucking mess._

_And speaking of the devil, Reese pulls off his sunglasses to return her scowl. "I could ask you the same thing, Lieutenant. I thought you were supposed to be hunting Juice Ortiz; I seriously doubt he'd be hanging out here."_

_She opens her mouth to let him have it; fuck the fact that Nick Reese could have her busted back down to writing parking tickets in Yuba City - she's fucking done with being the ball in this goddamn power ping pong game between him and Patterson. But she holds her tongue as his gaze shifts from her to an SUV entering the parking lot._

"_Any news on the search?" Those cool blue eyes flick back to her, although she senses his attention remains with the SUV pulling into a spot. Interesting…was Mr. Perfect actually stalking someone?_

_Jarry pulls out her phone and shows him the screen filled with texts from her deputies staked out at various locations where their prey could show up. "Nothing yet, but we got eyes everywhere he could be. Although now I'm thinking we should extend the search perimeter beyond just the four counties…SAMCRO has allies up and down the West Coast."_

_Reese quirks a brow in surprise. "You think that Teller knows that you're hunting one of his guys? Why would he protect someone who might be involved in his wife's murder?"_

_There it is again, that ever-so-slight hitch in Reese's tone when he talks about Tara Knowles' murder. At first, Jarry thought she'd imagined it; despite knowing Nick for years, she's no expert at what really makes the man tick. But after nearly two decades carrying a badge, she's pretty goddamn good at sniffing out people who're hiding something - and now she's starting to think there's more to this case for Nick Reese than just a fast track to the Governor's Mansion for his boss, then him._

_But before she can answer, Reese's face contorts with pure horror as he violently throws open his car door, nearly breaking her knees in the process. "Call for back-up, NOW!" he screeches running full speed towards the other SUV just as the sound of gunshots and screaming children pierce the air._

* * *

"_Hey, I was sure your mom was going to ground your ass…she was sure pissed last night." Alone in the Winston's open garage, Opie slides out from under the car and grins as Jax parks his bike in the driveway._

"_Pissed" might've been an understatement to describe his mom when she confronted Jax this morning - "frothing at the mouth" would be more apt. She'd pounced on his ass the second he'd crawled through his bedroom window this morning - shrieking at him for scaring the shit out of her, first by not calling to check in then by not coming home last night. Especially since everyone, including Opie and all his friends, had been at the Club party._

"_Do you know how many fucking enemies your father had?" She'd railed at him. "Do you have any goddamn idea how many psycho animals there are who'd jump at the chance to hurt SAMCRO through you?"_

_Jax'd felt a tiny jolt of remorse for worrying her, but he couldn't regret what he'd done last night - not in a billion years. Skipping the Club party to be with Tara…a smile twists his lips as he recalls the surprise on her beautiful face when he'd declared that he wanted more than friendship with her, that he'd wanted it for so long. That smile broadens at the memory of how warmly she'd melted into his arms and against his lips. No, he couldn't regret the best night of his life (so far, once she lets him inside of her - that will be the best ever). _

_Shrugging, Jax darts a quick glance at Tara's house before striding into the garage and plopping into an empty chair. "I'm a little too old to be grounded." Which was total bullshit since Gemma actually did ground him for the weekend then dragged him to TM to be slave labor for the morning. But always crafty, he'd managed to escape by convincing Piney, his warden for the day, that he wasn't feeling well and that maybe Mary could make him some of her great chicken soup for lunch. Piney had glared in disbelief before rolling his eyes and ordering him to get the hell out before he infected everyone._

"_Yeah, Pop called and said you're not feeling so good." Opie smirks, wiping his hands on a rag. "So I told mom that she might need some help making that 'great chicken soup' - Hey, Tara, our little sick boy is here!"_

_Jax immediately perks up in his chair, feeling his pulse race and his dick swell at the sight of her, dressed in a tank top and cut-offs. Although he's pretty fucking sure he'd have the same reaction if she'd been wearing a potato sack - especially now that he knows how beautiful she looks under those clothes, how amazing her bare skin feels against his, how delicious her kiss tastes._

"_Hi there," she greets him softly, brushing her hand across his forehead. "Hmmm, you do feel a little warm. No wonder you didn't want to spend the day at the garage."_

_His gaze drifts from her dancing green eyes to her cleavage peaking above her tank top; shit, just a few short hours ago, he'd fondled those bare breasts with his eager hands, had licked and sucked those pale pink nipples with his greedy mouth. Holy shit, Jax swallows hard before he starts drooling. _

"_You got something to make me feel better?" Mesmerized by the creamy perfection of her beautiful face, he picks up her hand and rubs his thumb back and forth across her palm. In the distance he can hear Opie snort at such as cheesy pick-up line, but it's impossible to think of anything brilliant to say when his brain's short-circuiting._

_Tara giggles, shooting electric sparks sizzling through him. But before she can respond, Mary's voice echoes into the garage alerting them that the soup's boiling. Extracting her hand from his, Tara strokes his cheek. "I'm sure I can think of something," she murmurs against his mouth, brushing her plump lips against his. Then shooting him a saucy smile, she turns and saunters back inside leaving Jax to stare after her, slack-jawed and hard as fucking hell._

"_Holy shit, you've really got it bad…" Opie guffaws throwing the rag at him._

_Still staring in the direction Tara had gone, Jax licks his lips tasting the faint sweetness of her. "Yeah," he whispers distractedly. "Yeah, I do." Before, the intensity of these new feelings for his lifelong friend had freaked him out; now, Jax embraces the thrill of being with Tara, he can't fucking wait to see what the future will bring for them._

"Goddamn it, you scared the fucking shit out of me, Jackson!" Gemma presses a shaking hand against her chest. "After everything that's happened…I just can't take anymore."

Jax grits his teeth until he tastes blood. _She_ can't take anymore? This goddamn bitch who'd arranged for his father - her own husband - to die a brutal death, crushed by a semi; who'd viciously stabbed his wife so hard and so many times that she'd split Tara's skull. He clenches his fists to keep from wrapping his hands around her fucking neck and sending her to hell where she belongs. Soon, he promises himself…soon.

"Unser's dead." Taking another long drag of his cigarette, Jax watches as an array of emotions flash across her face; usually Gemma could be as stone cold as anyone wearing a cut and a patch, but Unser had been special to her. Special - just like JT and Tara.

Gemma covers her mouth as tears pour from her eyes. "What? How? Who'd want to kill Wayne? He was a harmless old man. Oh god…" She launches herself at Jax, sobbing into his shoulder hugging him tight - oblivious to his arms hanging rigidly at his sides.

"Maybe not too harmless," Jax answers coldly, extracting himself from her tight grasp, no longer able to bear the grip of the poisonous viper. "Maybe there were things he knew that could hurt someone…expose someone…someone who'd do anything, any goddamn thing to get what she wanted."

Stepping back, Gemma gapes at him. "Jackson…what are you saying? Jesus Christ, you can't be serious…I'd never hurt Wayne. Never!"

"Like you'd never hurt Dad? Wasn't killing him your idea? Then you fucked Clay so he'd do your dirty work?" He grabs her arm before she can slap him, even in the darkness he could see her panic - she reeked of it.

Pulling the damning letter from his pocket, he waves it in her face. "When you gave me dad's letters, you must've thought you got rid of all the ones pointing the finger at you…but you never saw this one, did you? '…_my death will come at the hands of my wife and best friend_.'" He snarls the words burned into his memory.

"No, Jax…Clay killed your father! Clay ordered Lowell Sr. to sabotage John's bike. I didn't know anything about it!" Gemma reaches for the letter, but Jax shakes his head and shoves it back in his pocket. No fucking way he'd allow Gemma to get her bloody hands on his father's final letter. "Listen to me, Jackson…" He can sense her steeling herself, preparing to spew more self-serving lies. "John was going to end the gun deal with the Irish…and Clay said it would destroy SAMCRO…"

"And you knew all about that, didn't you?" Jax sneers. "Dad wrote in his journal that the only way Old Ladies make it is if you tell them everything or tell them nothing…And you knew everything, didn't you? Every goddamn thing! So don't go trying to sell me some bullshit about being in the dark…You were Clay's Old Lady while Dad was still alive."

She sucks in her breath then straightens, the panic morphing into the defiant bravado that was as much a part of Gemma Teller-Morrow as her arms and legs. "You should understand, Jackson. You're President now, you sit at the head of the table…You know better than most that sometimes what we have to make difficult, very difficult decisions to protect The Club. I loved John…he, you and Tommy - the three of you were my whole world. But after your little brother died, your father changed…he wanted to destroy everything we'd built - _your_ legacy and that of your sons. We couldn't let him do that. He had to be stopped."

The rage boiling his blood instantly freezes in his veins as he listens to her justify JT's murder with such cold, calculating reason. Holy goddamn shit, he'd used the same rationalization himself with Darvany and the dozens of executions he'd ordered since taking the gavel - anything and everything to protect SAMCRO. Christ, he could've honored the deal to give up the Irish to Patterson and spare Tara the anguish over her trial and possible prison sentence. But instead he'd killed Galen O'Shay to frame him for Clay's murder then brokered the deal to cede control of the guns to Marks - all to insulate and protect SAMCRO.

Closing his eyes, he runs a shaking hand across his face as painful realization slashes at him - he wasn't John Teller's son…he was Gemma's.

"_You are a truly beautiful man, Teller…" Tara slips into the shower with him, curling a hand around one of his biceps and sliding another down his back to squeeze his ass. "But that's not why I'm marrying you…" She lifts her hand to her lips and kisses the engagement ring he'd slid onto her finger just a half hour before. "It's this…" Her fingers crawl up his chest to flatten atop his Abel tattoo. "You have the most beautiful heart, Baby." She strokes his skin as his pulse starts pounding. "You didn't start loving me until you were sixteen, but I…" She presses a lingering kiss to his chest. "I've loved this beautiful heart all my life…and always will."_

"But you didn't kill Unser to protect your secret about JT…did you, Gemma?" Jax hisses, stepping closer to her. "There's only one reason why you'd murder the one man who's stood by you all these years. You said it yourself, Unser always tried to look out for Tara…I can't imagine he'd stand pat and let her murderer get away."

Gemma shakes her head as a nervous laugh escapes her lips. "For the last time - I didn't kill Unser. I loved him - he was my best friend. Besides, aren't you forgetting something? Wendy killed Tara…you already got justice for your wife. I was there, remember?" She tries to light a cigarette but her shaking hand fumbles and drops her lighter.

"Wendy fell victim to her own lies…That stupid bitch got what she deserved after what she put my family through, but she didn't kill Tara…" Flicking his own lighter, he holds it against her cigarette until the filter burns orange in the dim moonlight. Then turning towards the rosebush, Jax strokes the velvety petals before squatting to retrieve a flat paper bag.

Rising, Jax steps closer and stares hard at the monster who murdered his wife. "Do you remember how bad Tara had it as a kid? For years, nobody did a fucking thing while her dad beat the shit out of her…until the day that bastard almost killed her."

"Jax, where the hell are you going with all this?" Gemma backs away, as if sensing the violence ready to erupt from him. "Listen to me, Baby, I…"

"Don't call me that!" He roars, grabbing her throat. "Don't you ever call me that!" Dropping his other arm, he grasps what's inside tightly then shakes the bag until it falls to the ground. "Did you know that I stole one of JT's guns? I was going to threaten Old Frank…tell him that I'd kill him if he ever hurt her again. And you know what? I would've done it. I would've killed that fucking son-of-a-bitch with a goddamn smile on my face. Except Dad stopped me."

Jax lifts his arm to reveal a carving fork clutched tightly in his hand. "But anyone who's ever hurt her since…well they've all paid for it. And so will you," he snarls, grabbing her tightly when she tries to break free then throwing her violently to the ground.

"Jax, I don't know who's feeding you this bullshit but…"

"Shut up!" Dropping to his knees beside her, Jax slams his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries of pain and denial. Staring into Gemma's terrified face, he shrugs aside any lingering shreds of sentimentality that might weaken him against the woman he once loved with everything inside of him. "Just shut the fuck up."

Jax presses the tips of the fork against her cheek until blood drips from the puncture wound, just like he'd done earlier to Juice. "You know, the Sherriff never recovered the murder weapon you used, but the ME's report suggested a carving fork - just like this one. And Juice confirmed it - including how he got rid of it...for you."

Rolling her over, Jax sits on her spine to restrain her squirming body; he wraps one hand around her throat and presses the fork against her scalp, increasing the pressure until he she yelps in pain. "Tell me Gemma…Did you enjoy shoving the fork into Tara's head again and again? Did you get off listening to her scream in pain? Did it make you feel like a goddamn Queen when you split her skull?"

"No! No! Jax, please don't do this…please...please!" Gemma claws at his hand gripping her throat.

The red haze clouding his vision intensifies as his rage ratchets up another thousand degrees. "You expect mercy from me?! After what you did to Tara?! You foul, selfish bitch…" His breath hitches at the memory of all the nights standing outside Abel's door, listening to his son cry himself to sleep…of Thomas, wailing day and night for the mother he may never remember. "After what you did to my sons…You'll get no mercy from me. Scream all you want, no one will hear you."

He scrapes the fork hard across the base of her skull, sneering when she whimpers in pain and begs him to stop. What she's feeling is nothing, goddamn fucking nothing compared to how the vicious bitch made Tara suffer. "What was it like, Gemma? Taking care of Abel and Thomas, watching them cry from losing their mother, pretending to worry about them…when all the while you were the one who stole everything from us!"

"No!" Gemma screams hoarsely. "It was Tara! Tara was going to ruin everything. She was going to rat on the Club and send you all to jail. Then take the boys away…Tara tried to destroy our family, Jackson! She's been trying to tear apart the Club and our family for years…and you've been too blinded by your dick to see it! But it's not too late, Jax…we can still…" She cries in pain as he slams her head into the ground.

"You don't ever talk about Tara like that, do you hear me, bitch?" He pulls her head up by the hair so she can see the sheer hate on his face. "And there's no 'we' when it comes to you. You're going to die tonight, Gemma. And then I'm taking the boys out of here…like I promised Tara. They won't grow up in SAMCRO, there'll never be another Teller at the head of the table. And the only thing they'll ever know about you is that you're the evil, jealous cunt who murdered their mother in cold blood."

Shoving her head into the ground, Jax tightens his grip on the fork; he's felt the burn of hate and rage before, but never like this…so painfully intense that he can barely breathe. Pulling her long hair out of the way, he tries to focus on the target spot despite the red mist coating his vision and her violent struggles and screams begging him to stop. "Say goodbye, Gemma…" he hisses, lifting his arm to drive the fork into…

A shot pierces the air, causing him to drop the fork and swivel around. What in fucking hell?!

"No, Jax." Bobby emerges from the dark, followed by Chibs, Tig and Happy. "We can't let you do this…"

* * *

_It's probably wrong to feel this energized, this full of renewed purpose at a funeral. But somehow he doesn't think Donna would mind, especially since it means overhauling the Club she'd come to hate so much - the Club that'd tried to murder her husband only to kill her instead. _

_Standing in front of his father's grave marker, Jax had silently vowed to return the Sons of Anarchy back to its roots, back to JT's original vision of freedom and Brotherhood and away from the greed and violent power plays that'd been poisoning the Club under Clay's presidency. "Time for a change." Piney had told him, and Jax wholeheartedly agreed, jumping at the chance to finally put SAMCRO to rights again._

_Speaking of second changes, his heart actually skips a beat at the sight of Tara waiting for him beside his bike. Christ, he'd come so close to losing her again…but she'd come back to him, more or less announcing it to everyone at the service. It's probably wrong to feel that kind of euphoric happiness during a funeral as well…but again, something tells him Donna would've been okay with it._

"_Jax, over here!" In the corner of his eye, he spots his mother waving for him to join her and Clay and Wendy. Gemma's so goddamn transparent sometimes; she'd pushed Wendy at him before and for some fucked-up reason, she's doing it again. But he's made his choice, not that there was really ever a choice to make - Tara's owned him since they were kids, and she always will. Gemma really needs to get that drilled into her thick, stubborn skull. Ignoring her and Clay and Wendy, he increases his pace towards his bike - where the most beautiful girl in the world's waiting for him._

"_Hey." She beams him that smile that always, always spikes his pulse. "I hitched a ride here with Hale…so I was kind of hoping you could give me a ride home."_

_Unable to help himself, he hauls her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "'Home' - as in Charming, right?" At her nod, he grins broadly then presses his forehead against hers. "For good this time, okay Babe?" he murmurs against her velvety cheek._

"_For good…" She strokes his face then ensnares him with those gorgeous mossy green eyes. "I love you, Jax. I'm not going anywhere. Home's where you are."_

"This has nothing to do with you guys!" Jax bellows in outrage. "Tara was MY wife, and that murderous bitch…" He shoots a hate-filled glare at Gemma, being held in check by Tig and Chibs. "…took her away from ME and MY sons. Retaliation is MY right. Tara deserves justice…"

Bobby shakes his head sadly. "We heard everything, Jax. And you're right, Tara deserves justice. But you got to think this through…Despite everything, Gemma's still your mother; if you kill her….that's some pretty heavy shit you'd be carrying around for the rest of your life. Tara loved you, Brother…do you honestly think she'd want that for you? You may not believe it now, but that's the kind of killing that'll eat at your soul…you'll never be able to escape it, and neither will your boys, because they'll have to live with it too."

"He's right," Tig pipes up. "Killing family…the wrongness of it...just never goes away."

Practically shaking with incredulous fury, Jax gapes at each of his so-called Brothers standing in mutual accord against him. "I can't fucking believe this…You expect me to turn her over to the goddamn Sheriff? And then what? Gemma gets some lawyer who cuts some fucking deal for her to rat on us in exchange for a walk? Where's justice for Tara in that?"

Gemma leans forward and tries to grab his arm. "Jax, you can't possibly believe that I would rat…"

"Shut your goddamn mouth!" Jax lunges for her, only to be blocked by Happy. Of all people. Christ, what fucking weird shit's happening if Happy doesn't agree with retaliation?

"No, Jackie." Chibs breaks his silence. "Gemma had a hand in killing a Member, who was President at the time. And she murdered your Queen and our Doc…This doesna go to the Sheriff. It stays here with The Club…with a Mayhem Vote."

Neither Teller had expected that; Jax's jaw drops open as Gemma starts shrieking in panicked disbelief. "What?! No! You can't be serious. I'm just an Old Lady, not a Member. Mayhem is just for Members."

"Technically, you're not even an Old Lady…Clay's dead," Tig reminds her. "And technically, we can vote Mayhem for anyone who kills a Member, which we heard you admit. Pretty bad move on your part."

Gemma begins to struggle anew, a moot exercise, given she wouldn't get far even if she managed to break free. Nevertheless, Chibs tightens his grip on her although his gaze remains on Jax. "Yea." The VP casts the first vote - drawing a horrified gasp from Gemma - then glances at the Sergeant-at-Arms.

Happy doesn't hesitate. "Yea."

Tig remains silent for a heartbeat as he gazes at Gemma; Jax's always suspected Clay's right hand henchman of having the hots for his wife. But before he can suspect Tig of ruining a unanimous vote, his Brother chimes in loud and clear. "Yea."

Jax watches with grim satisfaction as Gemma's shoulders tense and eyes widen with terror; she really must've thought the guys would be loyal to her even after all the damaging shit she'd done, but now even her most steadfast knight has turned on her. As the vote moves to Bobby, Gemma shoots him an imploring look.

"Yea." Like Happy, Bobby doesn't hesitate for a second. Instead, SAMCRO's voice of reason levels Gemma with a glare so full of hate-filled loathing, that tears start to roll down her face. "Your vote now, Prez…" Bobby clamps his hand on Jax's shoulder.

Gemma turns her tear-streaked face towards him. "Jackson, please…Don't do this…Please, Baby…"

He swallows hard, glancing first at Tommy's grave marker then at the rosebush, swaying slightly in the wind. Bobby's right; Jax knows that his beautiful girl, who'd devoted her life to helping people - to saving them - always hated the thought of blood on his hands. "_Don't let this change you, Jax…I love you so much, Baby. You've got a big beautiful heart, don't let them kill it."_

Feeling his Brothers' intense gazes on him, he steps closer to Tara's murderer and stares hard into her face - the hate steaming from him could scorch the sun. "Tara wouldn't have wanted me to do this, even after what you did to her. But she didn't deserve to suffer like that, my boys didn't deserve to lose their mother…You, though...you deserve to burn in hell. And I can't fucking wait to send you there…Yea."

* * *

_Although Jax's wanted to marry Tara since his sixteenth birthday, he'd never given much thought to the actual wedding - just that it had to be special for her; so even after she'd accepted his proposal, he'd swallowed his eagerness and told her that they needed to wait for the right time. Maybe because he couldn't forget sweet little Tara, his childhood friend whose worthless parents never gave her shit, that he'd wanted to wait until they could plan the perfect celebration - where everyone could watch the most beautiful, most remarkable girl in the world finally, finally become his wife._

"…_in a brothel…Wanted for murder…"_

_Obviously he hadn't envisioned the quick, impromptu ceremony officiated by a john judge fresh from his favorite hooker's bed; Jax had to improvise given the bullshit arrest warrant leading to his possible murder at the hands of Black once locked up in County. But as they exchanged vows, he'd been transfixed by the sheer joy on Tara's gorgeous face - by those dazzling green eyes glowing with love for him - and realized that she didn't give a fuck about the perfect celebration…all she wanted was him._

_Stalking into the Clubhouse after the rather terse meeting with Romeo and Luis, he heads straight for the apartment, where her text said she'd be waiting for him. And as usual, she doesn't disappoint. The anger and tension coiling inside him melt away instantly at the sight of his incredibly sexy wife lying on the bed, dressed in nothing but his black SAMCRO t-shirt, reading some massive book._

"_Hi, Baby." She grins up at him, setting the book aside as he leans down to help himself to that luscious mouth. "Oh no, you don't…" she pushes him away playfully when he tries to join her on the bed. "I need to check out my brand new husband…wearing nothing but this…" She taps the bullet necklace, tucked under his shirt, that she'd given him years ago. "…and this…" Plump pink lips brush against the thick gold wedding band that she'd slid on his finger less than an hour ago._

_Jax straightens and quirks a questioning brow at her; despite the excitement coursing through him, he doesn't want the memory of the first time he made love to his wife trashed to hell by Roosevelt and his goons bursting in here and hauling his bare ass to jail._

"_Ally says we probably have at least half an hour before those guys get here." Correctly reading his hesitation, Tara rises to her knees, drawing his intent gaze as she plays with the hem of her t-shirt before slowly pulling it off - leaving her deliciously naked except for the bracelet and necklace he bought her on one of his runs and her wedding and engagement rings. "You don't think I can get you off in half an hour?" Smirking, she leans back against the pillows, her left hand drifting down to rest low on her stomach - just above his personal slice of heaven._

_Jax breaks all personal speed records stripping off his clothes; his pulse skyrocketing and dick hardening to stone as he watches her watching him - just fucking loving the gleam of hot desire her green eyes._

"_Babe, at this rate, I won't last half that long." Anchoring her hands on either side of her head, he twines their fingers and gazes down at the stunning face he's loved nearly all his life. "Christ, you're beautiful…Mrs. Teller…" Unable to resist any longer, he devours her mouth, savoring the taste of her, while sliding between those silky smooth thighs; his stiff cock rubbing against her soaking wet mound. _

_Draping one slim leg around his hip, Tara presses herself even tighter against him; mewling softly as she scrapes her swollen nipples against his chest. "Oh, god, I love you, Jax…" she gasps as his lips slide down her throat to suck hard on her neck. "Fuck me…now, Baby, now…" _

_Holy, holy shit. Practically vibrating with lust, Jax struggles for control - not an easy feat given that the sweet little girl next door he just married could always fire him up faster and hotter than anyone or anything else ever. Staring into those hypnotic eyes, Jax thrusts hard, hissing with pleasure as her scorching wet walls squeeze his pulsing cock._

_Not breaking eye contact nor the clasp of their entwined hands, he pumps slowly, firmly - rubbing his swollen cock up and down and across her most sensitive tissues, loving the friction and suction of her hungry pussy swallowing him up. Oh holy fuck, he feels his balls draw tight, ready to explode - shit, he'd warned her that he wouldn't last long, but this might be an actual record._

_Rolling them over so she's on top, Jax grits his teeth, desperate not to come until he can take her with him. He feasts his admiring gaze on her beautiful flushed face and luscious, heaving breasts before sucking a swollen nipple into his mouth and rubbing his thumb hard against her clit - pulsing hard and deep inside her as she rides him. Apparently it's just what the doctor ordered as Dr. Tara Knowles-Teller screams her pleasure, triggering a rush of soaking wet spasms that grip and clench his cock so hard that he's the one shouting his love for her as he comes and comes and comes._

"_Do you think they heard us out there?" She giggles, snuggling against his chest. "I mean they were playing music."_

"_Babe, people in Lodi might've heard you…" He grabs her hand as she starts to tickle him. Bringing her hand to his lips, he kisses the gold band on her finger, savoring the fact that the life he'd dreamed about since turning sixteen was now reality - wearing the President's patch and married to Tara._

"_Well that's your job now…." She tugs at his goatee. "…keeping your wife happy." Pulling his head down, she feeds him a slow, hot, wet kiss that melts his brain and rouses his recovering dick. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Baby."_

_Chuckling, he presses her tighter against him. "I can't wait."_

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Chief Charlie Horse narrows his eyes at Jax and Bobby. "Once it's started…there's no turning back."

Bobby points at Jax. "Gemma murdered his wife…and his father. We've got a 'mourning war' here, Chief. The gods have chosen their revenge…besides John Teller was a friend of your brother's, they fought together in Vietnam."

After a slight hesitation, Charlie nods. "John was a friend of mine as well…and of all the Wahewa." He grips Jax's shoulder. "Once again, I'm very sorry about Tara, Jackson. She was a beautiful woman - with a big heart…Whatever you want, we'll see it done." Then exhaling loudly, turns for his truck. "Okay, follow me to the South Res."

Jax follows Bobby back to the van, which they had to take to haul their prisoners and Jax's bike. "Chief wants us to follow him," Bobby tells Tig, who's got driving duty, then claims shotgun. "But I know the way there, too."

Climbing into the back of the van, Jax plops down next to Chibs and Happy then glares at Gemma and Juice, bound and gagged, across from them. Part of him wants to look away from her, maybe just the slightest bit afraid that even now - so close to the end - there's still some small shred of love he once had for his mother, the woman who'd raised him, stood by him through all his bad shit. If it's still there inside him, would it weaken his resolve to finally get justice for Tara?

But as he looks at Gemma, he doesn't see his loving, laughing mother - no, all he can see is an empty life without Tara; all he can think about is what he's lost, what his boys have lost…He returns her pleading, tear-stained gaze with his iciest sneer; what waits for her in the South Res is everything she deserves.

A few minutes later the van comes to a stop and the doors pop open with Tig and Bobby outside. Jax stands and leans to pick up Gemma when Bobby's voice stops him. "Jax…let Happy and Chibs do it."

When Jax whirls around to snap at him, Chibs grabs his arm. "He's right, Jackie. Remember what we said back there. You didna want…

"No," Jax counters loudly. "I lost my wife and my old man because of her. My sons lost their mother…I got to do this."

His Brothers exchange glances, then Chibs and Happy hop out of the back of the van, leaving him with Juice and Gemma. Juice would be staying here, he's got a role to play later. For Gemma, it's show time. Ensuring the tightness of the ropes binding her hands and feet, he picks her up and hauls her over his shoulder - ignoring her futile struggles.

Outside, the Chief's standing with his Brothers, pouring something into a swarming pit before murmuring some words that Jax didn't understand. When Bobby first suggested this to him back at the cemetery, Jax'd shuddered - he'd all heard about the Wahewa's extreme punishment methods - but wasn't sure Charlie would grant permission given none of the victims were tribe members. It was one thing to grant Jax unrestricted access to the secluded lakeside park area for camping with Tara or space for Opie and Lyla's wedding, but quite another for SAMCRO to use one of the Wahewa's "sacred traditions."

As Jax carries a violently struggling and squawking Gemma to the pit, Charlie shoots her a withering glare so intense that her breath hitches and she grows still. Charlie had never liked or trusted Clay, so he'd been quietly enraged when Jax'd let him read JT's dad's letter, implicating both Gemma and Clay in his death. So it'd been John Teller's own words that doomed his faithless wife. But only because Tara had kept the letter in her keepsake box.

Staring into the pit teeming with flesh eating ants, Jax muses at the irony of it all; in their own way, JT &amp; Tara found a way to punish Gemma.

Exhaling deeply, Jax hands Gemma off to Happy so he can face the woman who'd given birth to him one last time. He pulls the tape from her mouth since no one would listen to her screaming now. "I'm not going to bother asking you if you're sorry for what you've done…frankly, I don't give a shit about how you feel anymore."

"Jackson…please don't do this…" Gemma croaks hoarsely. "Everything I've done has been for you. Everything I've done is because I love you so much."

Jax barks with harsh laughter. "You killed my father and my wife because you love me? Gemma, you've got the most fucked-up definition of love. You say you loved Dad, but you plotted to murder him. You say you loved Tara, but you butchered her…You say you love me, but you killed any hope I had for a future. I'll take care of my boys…but what's left for me? All I ever wanted was Tara…and you took her from me. You're poison Gemma, you don't know how to love." With that, he nods at Happy and together they lower Gemma into the pit where the ants swarm immediately, covering every inch of her within seconds.

Maybe the sight of those ravenous ants eating her alive or the sound of her bloodcurdling screams of pain should've stirred some pity or regret inside him. But Jax felt nothing as he stood there, just like when he'd watched Wendy violently convulse to death on the cabin floor. Maybe he is a monster; as Gemma's son, he certainly came from the right gene pool.

His Brothers had stood by him, but - unlike Jax - they're all clearly affected by Gemma's slow, visceral torture, even Happy. However, they're all quick to clarify that they'd vote the same way…it's just that they'd wished it didn't have to come to this. Well if that meant Tara would still be alive, Jax couldn't agree more.

"How long do we got to watch this?" Tig glances longingly at the van. Charlie had said it should take two days for a person to die, but only Happy had volunteered to watch the ants finish their job.

Jax's cell phone rings before he can answer. Scowling at the Sanwa Sheriff's ID appearing on the screen, Jax considers letting it go to voicemail before barking into the phone. What the fuck did these assholes want? His last interaction with Jarry and Patterson had been a goddamn joke.

"Mr. Teller, it's Lieutenant Althea Jarry. We need you to come down to St. Thomas Hospital immediately."

"Why? Look, I'm in the middle of something. I really don't have time to…"

"It's about your sons, Mr. Teller. I suggest you get here right now."


	20. Owning My Place

**CHAPTER 19: OWNING MY PLACE**

"_For the millionth fucking time, I didn't see the guy's face," Reese snarls at her, his cold blue eyes snapping with temper. "He was wearing a fucking ski mask, which you saw with your own fucking eyes. Seriously Lieutenant, you and every one of your deputies need to be out there looking for that goddamn son-of-a-bitch, not wasting time here with me. Every minute that maniac's running free means…HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"_

_Jarry raises her brows as Reese lashes out at the poor young nurse who'd been cleaning the jagged edges of his skin, torn by the bullet that ripped through his shoulder. In all the years she's known Nick Reese, Jarry's never seen him lose his shit like this; the state's Golden Boy wasn't handling his first gunshot wound very well - although Jarry's pretty sure that what's whipped him into a crazed frenzy has nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder._

"_I've got all my deputies on this, Nick - not to mention all the law enforcement in the state. You know we take Amber Alerts very seriously, especially since the kidnapper was armed. But if you can remember anything else about the guy - anything at all - that might help us find him faster…"_

_Reese closes his eyes, flinching as he confronts the horrifying, panic-laced memory - the grim sight of blood gushing from the fallen victims, the heart-stopping sound of the little Teller boys' terrified screams, the burn of the bullet tearing through his shoulder as he tried to wrench the crying children away from the madman…_

"_Nothing…goddamn it, not a fucking thing!" Reese slams his fist against the wall, startling the nurse wrapping the bandage around his upper arm. He shakes his head then stares hard at Jarry, who's stunned by the tears rimming his eyes and the tortured look on his face. "Just what I told you before…he was white, a few inches shorter than me and had light colored eyes - blue or maybe gray."_

"_Are you sure you didn't hear him say anything?" Jarry prods the snarling tiger once again. "We've always suspected that SAMCRO was in bed with the IRA, running their guns up and down the coast. Just because no one could prove it didn't mean it wasn't true. Maybe Teller pissed off his business partners, and they went after his kids."_

_He glares at her in outraged disbelief. "What the fuck…you think the son-of-a-bitch belted out a verse of 'Danny Boy' before he took off? No, he didn't say a goddamn thing." Reese waits for the nurse to attach a sling to his arm then hops off the exam table and stalks out the door, despite the nurse's squawking insistence that he stay put and wait for the doctor._

"_Where the hell are you going?" Jarry scampers after him, only to be coldly ignored as Reese marches towards the elevator. "You really should go back in there and wait for the doctor to look at that shoulder."_

_Her cel phone buzzes before she could insist further - not that the Chief Deputy Attorney General, in full asshole mode, would listen to her. Reading the text, Jarry sighs heavily and turns to walk towards the exit as Reese stomps into the elevator headed upstairs. More fun - Papa Teller and friends have just arrived._

* * *

Vibrating with unrestrained fear and fury, Jax curls his fists - ready to beat the shit out of the snot-nosed deputy blocking his entrance into the hospital. After the Sheriff's cryptic yet shattering call that something had happened to his boys, they'd ridden here hell for leather from the Wahewa reservation - only to be greeted by the sight of cops and police tape all over the St. Thomas parking lot…and this little shit in a uniform telling them that they couldn't go inside until the Sheriff got there.

"Listen here, asshole…" Jax snarls, getting into the visibly trembling prick's face. "You'd better get the fuck out of my way before I…" Before he can finish threatening to kill a member of law enforcement, Jarry conveniently appears - saving her deputy from a bloody beat down.

"_Mr. Teller, it's Lieutenant Althea Jarry. We need you to come down to St. Thomas Hospital immediately."  
_"_Why? Look I'm in the middle of something. I really don't have time to…"  
_"_It's about your sons, Mr. Teller. I suggest you get here right now."_

But she'd hung up before Jax could blast her with his frantic questions, leaving him a freaked-out, fucking mess running full speed for his bike while barking orders to his Brothers, who'd followed on his heels - leaving Gemma alone with her new family of flesh eating ants. Not that he gave a shit; all that mattered were his boys.

Shoving past the relieved-looking deputy, Jax lurches towards the stony-faced Sheriff. "Where are my sons?!" he demands, summoning every ounce of control not to pound the answers out of her. Although he'd been raised never to a hit a woman, that rule went to hell long ago; Jax's all about equal opportunity when it comes to crushing the assholes who hurt his family.

"You need to calm down, Mr. Teller. I need to ask you some questions…"

Jax's control shatters as he lunges for Jarry, only to be forcibly held back by Bobby and Chibs; rage and fear might've blinded him to the consequences of attacking the Sheriff in front of her armed deputies, but not his Brothers. Struggling to escape their grasp, he pins Jarry with a glare that promises bloody death if she's using his boys to fuck with him.

Unfazed, the Sheriff waves down the deputies who'd come running at the sight of Teller on the verge of attacking their boss. Turning back to Jax, Jarry's steely eyes bore into him. "I'm sure you have a few enemies, Mr. Teller. But I need to know right now who'd want to hurt you enough by going after your sons. I'm somewhat versed in how MC beefs work - that no matter how bad it gets, small children are off limits. So this has to be something else. Maybe one of your other 'associates'?"

Jax clenches his fists to keep from wrapping his hands around her goddamn neck. "I'm not answering any of your fucking questions until you tell me what's happened to my boys," he hisses through gritted teeth. "Where the fuck are they?"

But her words do hit home; acid burns through Jax's veins, his mind filling with hellish memories of when that bastard Hayes kidnapped Abel. Could those Irish pricks have tried again? But why? Roarke had seemed satisfied with the deal to transfer the guns to the Mayans, especially with the increased orders from the Italians.

Jarry's gaze flickers briefly to the other SAMCRO members before resting on Jax once again. "A man wearing a mask tried to abduct both your sons in the parking lot. He shot your two guys then…"

"Wait..." Jax pounces, every cell in his body skipping with hope - despite the horror of hearing that Rat and Chucky had been shot. "You said he 'tried' to take them…you mean Abel and Thomas are safe?"

At the Sheriff's silence and averted gaze, Jax feels his heart plummet to his feet. No…not his babies…they had to be okay. "Tell me…" he rasps as panic claws at his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him.

"Your older boy, Abel…he got away. The doctors have him under observation in ICU; I was told he should be fine."

Jax exhales in relief, but the suffocating pressure in his chest remains. "What about Thomas? He's just a baby…" Whatever tiny hope he'd nurtured about both his boys' safety shatters into fucking pieces at the rueful sympathy on her face. His legs buckle as agonized grief swamps him; only his Brothers' restraining arms prevent him from falling to his knees. Oh fucking holy Christ, please…not sweet, bubbly Thomas - not the beautiful baby boy he and Tara created together…

"We weren't able to stop the man from taking Thomas. I'm sorry, Jax." Jarry reaches over to touch his arm. "I've got every man on this, and an Amber Alert's been issued for the entire state. We'll find your son."

Unable to speak, he nods stiffly then tries to listen, despite the fierce roaring in his ears, as she tells him about Rat and Chucky, who - to his profound relief - survived the shooting, for now. He owes those two so much for taking care of his boys, and now taking bullets to protect them - although something doesn't fit…

Finding his voice, he waylays her as she turns to walk towards her car. "You said Rat and Chucky were downed first…how did Abel get away from the guy?" He and Tara had encouraged physical activity for both their sons, but they'd kept extra watch on Abel given his heart condition. As a result, the little boy had thrived under Tara's care to the point most forgot about his CHD, but Abel was no match for a grown man - especially one psychotic enough to shoot up a hospital parking lot.

She stares at him wordlessly for a moment, a speculative gleam lighting her eyes. "He had a little help."

* * *

"_Hey, what's going on in here?" Arriving home, he's lured into the kitchen by the sounds of Tara's singsong voice and Abel's giggles. In the doorway, Jax grins at the sight of his family clustered at the table - Abel bouncing up and down in his chair chirping excitedly while Tara, nursing Thomas, smiles at her boys indulgently. _

_During his fourteen months in Stockton, Jax'd ached for moments like this - spending time at home with Tara and their kids. Although she'd been diligent in not missing a single weekly visit or holiday, that regimented time with his family hadn't been enough - not nearly enough. _

_So now that he's finally out, he's been doing everything he can to spend as much time with his family - not an easy feat given all the extra work from the new Irish deal, not to mention the new shit with the Galindo cartel. But ever since Jax was a teenager, he'd always been able to find ways to escape his Club responsibilities to be with Tara - not going to stop now._

"_Daddy!" Abel leaps out of his chair to greet him. Hoisting his son into his arms, Jax ruffles his hair before smacking a kiss to his cheek. "We looking at the pictures." Abel tells him eagerly, pointing to the photographs displayed neatly on the table._

"_Sounds like fun. I can't wait to see them." Jax lowers Abel onto his chair before walking over to Tara and Thomas. "And hello to the two of you." He drops a kiss on Thomas' downy head before pressing a longer, wetter one to Tara's lips - drawing back only when his dick starts twitching; family time wasn't the only thing he can't seem to get enough of…_

_Sliding into the chair next to her, his grin widens as he picks up the photo in front of him. "These turned out really good." A couple days after he got out of Stockton, Tara had hired Elyda's cousin to take family pictures of the four of them since none existed with Jax and Thomas together. It's as if she'd read his mind; when he was inside, every time someone sent him photos of her and the boys, he'd count down the days until he could join them in those pictures._

_They'd had a blast during the photoshoot in the backyard - evident by the smiles and laughter on their photographed faces: Jax tossing a laughing Abel in the air, blowing raspberries on Thomas' feet and belly, nuzzling and licking Tara's neck instead of smiling for the camera._

"_This one's my fav'rite." Abel announces, sliding a photo towards his parents. "And this one…and this one…"_

_Smiling, Tara taps him on the nose. "Well then it's settled - we'll put those pictures in these frames and the others in the photo album. Sound good?"_

_Abel nods eagerly while Jax peruses the photos his son selected, warmth spreading through his veins as he stares at the image of the four of them seated on a blanket, his arms wrapped tightly around Abel and Tara, who's cradling Thomas. Even in a photograph Tara's smile could still make his heart pound and his pulse race. "Yeah, I like this one, too."_

"Unfortunately, we had to sedate him." Dr. Namid had flagged Jax down just as he and his Brothers emerged from the elevator, leaving no doubt that Tara's children would always receive the best of care from her former employers. "Abel was hysterical when they brought him in, screaming for his little brother…we were afraid all that stress could trigger something with his heart. But don't worry, it was a small dose - just enough for him to relax, maybe take a little nap."

Jax jams his hands in his pockets as he gazes worriedly at the doctor. "But he's going to be okay, right?" He desperately needs that peace of mind before he and his Brothers can go torch the earth searching for Thomas.

The other man nods reassuringly. "Other than some scrapes and bruises, Abel's perfectly fine. However, we want to keep him here overnight for observation - and to talk to one of our counselors, he's been through a terrifying ordeal." The doctor's professional demeanor falters, as if remembering the other trauma Abel suffered - that they all suffered - by losing Tara. "You can go see him now."

A tiny fraction of him relaxes a bit at the confirmation that Abel was truly okay. "Thanks, Doc." Jax shakes the hand of the man who'd worked tirelessly with Tara to save Abel's life. It's hard to believe that was just a few years ago; Jax feels like he's aged a fucking century since then.

Heading to the ICU, he wracks his brain for the words to explain to Abel what happened to his little brother; he knows how close the boys are and that, since Tara's death, Abel's been especially militant in his protectiveness. For the billionth time, Jax wishes that she was here; with her at his side, there wasn't anything he couldn't fucking handle - provided she didn't rip his goddamn head off for once again endangering her babies.

He can't help but remember all the hours she'd spent beside him, holding his hand, as they kept vigil over Abel - first as an infant fighting to survive and then when fucking Gemma had nearly killed him and Thomas after losing control of her car. His hand aches for her soft fingers to twine with his, just like they'd done so many times in the past when life threatened to overwhelm him. Rubbing his wedding ring, Jax sends her a silent promise that he'll fix this, that their boys will be safe.

Upon reaching Abel's room, Jax's not surprised to see Reese practically pressed up against the glass - not after Jarry shocked the shit out of him with the account of the silver-spooned Golden Boy diving at the masked gunman. Apparently Reese managed to wrest Abel away - only to get shot in the shoulder when trying to grab Thomas, still strapped in his carrier. Jarry, who'd been right behind him, had managed to corral a screaming Abel but decided not to shoot at the fleeing kidnapper in fear of hurting Thomas.

Jax greets him with a brief nod before walking into Abel's room; he's got plenty to say to Tara's ex-boyfriend, but first and foremost, he needs to see his son. His heart squeezes at the sight of his sweet little boy once again tucked into a hospital bed, once again attached to more tubes than Jax wanted count while a machine monitors every heartbeat.

"Hi Daddy." Abel murmurs sleepily, his eyes opening slowly as Jax walks over to the hospital bed and squeezes his hand.

Smiling softly, he bends to kiss Abel's forehead. "Hey Little Man. How you feeling?"

"Sad…" Lower lip trembling, Abel stares up at him with sleepy, tear-filled eyes. "The bad man took Tommy…He made Tommy cry…"

Gently ruffling Abel's hair, Jax forces cheerfulness into his voice. "Don't you worry a second about that…I'm going to find your brother and bring him back here to you - I got all your uncles and all the cops in the state looking for him. I promise he's going to be fine."

"Mommy said Tommy gets scared and needs me…I'm the big brother…but I was scared too..."

Jax grits his teeth, trying not to think of all the brutal pain he's going to inflict on the soon-to-be-dead fucker who attacked his family, but Abel doesn't need his rage right now. "I know Mommy will understand; more than anything, she'd want for you and Thomas to be safe. She and I love you both so much. So no feeling bad about being scared, okay?"

Abel nods then closes his eyes, surrendering to the sedative. "I wish she was here."

Feeling his eyes sting, Jax smooths the little boy's hair before kissing his soft cheek. "Me too, Buddy. Me too." Then glancing around the room, he spots Abel's massive backpack on a guest chair; apparently someone on the hospital staff knew how important it was to the little boy.

He rifles through pack and pulls out one of the framed pictures that Abel had pilfered from their house. A small smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes his son's favorite family picture; he can understand Abel's partiality to it as he carries a snapshot version in his wallet. Jax's smile disappears as pained regret stabs at him once again at the sight of his once happy family. Brushing a finger across the image of Tara's beautiful smiling face, he sinks into the chair as the always-present, always-excruciating "what-if's" crush him.

"_We're going to take our boys and we're going to get the hell out of here. Start fresh somewhere. Be a real family."_

If only they'd done just that the day he got out of Stockton…

Shooting out of the chair, he shakes his head violently, shoving those debilitating thoughts aside; he can't afford to wallow in regret right now, not when Thomas needs him. He presses his lips against the photo before gently tucking it into Abel's small hand. Gazing at his sleeping son, Jax kisses his little boy's forehead one more time before turning to leave.

* * *

"We can keep Quinn here." Bobby tells him quietly; he and Chibs had been waiting for Jax outside of Abel's room. "If it was the Irish who did this…he'll recognize the bastards if they come here."

Jax hesitates for a split second thinking that they'll need every man available to help find Thomas; however, knowing that he can't leave Abel and his injured Brothers unprotected, he nods his approval. "Call Alvarez. Tell him I need his help right away. Tell him to bring a fucking army. And Chibs, get any intel you can about whether the Irish have a bug up their ass about me or SAMCRO. If they did this…" Fury consumes him; if those greedy bastards hurt his little boy, he'll gut them all then set their motherfucking bodies on fire.

After agreeing to meet downstairs in five minutes, Chibs and Bobby rush off to make their calls leaving Jax to finish one more thing he's got to do. Walking back to the ICU glass wall, he sidles next to Reese - who hasn't budged from his vigil since Jax arrived.

Without looking in his direction or even uttering a greeting, Reese shoves a wad of paper in Jax's hand. "The man who took Thomas…he was wearing a mask, I didn't see much of his face. Just that he was white, about six feet and had blue, maybe gray eyes. He was driving a dark gray minivan…that's all I could make out of the license plate."

"Thanks man, I know you didn't have to…"

"Don't..." Reese snaps coldly although his eyes remain glued to the sleeping Abel. "I didn't do it for you...I gave that same info to Jarry, but you need to find the son-of-a-bitch first. Do the tax payers a favor and put the animal down."

Momentarily taken aback, Jax glances down at the paper then stares hard at the other man, taking in the fresh cuts on his face, the rips and bloodstains on his obviously expensive suit, the sling cradling his injured shoulder. He'll always hate the insufferable prick - but after risking everything to save Jax's sons, Nick Reese deserves his respect and gratitude today and every day for the rest of eternity.

He turns to leave, only to stop short as Reese's voice breaks the tense silence. "You know, I never wanted kids…Didn't want them to deal with the life my brother and I had growing up…all the expectations, all the pressure to be worthy of our family's legacies…it's fucking endless."

Jamming his hands into his pocket, Jax remains silent; he knows that story all too well, having lived the outlaw version for most of his life.

"Then Tara showed up at my office, begging for my help so she could get into the prison infirmary to help you. Seeing her pregnant like that…" Closing his eyes, Reese shakes his head roughly - as if trying to dislodge a painful burr from his brain. "That should've been my kid. If only I'd stood up to my family…told my mother to mind her own fucking business…"

Swallowing hard, Jax blinks back the wetness gathering in his own eyes as the same agonizing, toxic combo of regret and guilt slice through him again - it's especially brutal now that he knows the murderous lengths his own mother had gone to so that he'd always be tied to his MC birthright.

"This is on you, Teller." Reese pins him with frosty blue eyes glittering with tortured rage. "This fucked-up life of yours killed Tara and now this…That son-of-a-bitch went after the boys because of you…because of you and your goddamn band of criminals."

Jax steps closer, glowering at the man who'd saved Abel. "I got justice for Tara," he hisses, watching as realization then satisfaction spreads across Reese's face. "And I've got this, too. I'll bring Thomas home safe."

"You'd better…" Reese grits out through clenched teeth. "If anything happens to Tara's son…I'll kill you myself."

* * *

_Jax's eyes snap open as his whole body jolts awake, trying to escape the throes of another bloody fucking nightmare. Christ, they're getting worse - especially now that he's got so much more to lose. Tightening his arm around Tara, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead then smirks to himself when she doesn't stir. Poor baby, he'd really worn her out tonight._

_But after fourteen months locked up in Stockton - fourteen goddamn endless months of abstinence (aside from jerking off to the thought of her every fucking night) - who the hell could blame him? Especially since Tara's always been just as eager to jump his bones any time, any place; tonight after they'd put the boys to bed, she'd ambushed him in the shower then fucked him senseless until the water chilled and his legs buckled. He'd returned the favor later in bed - driving her to orgasm with his fingers, his tongue, his dick - over and over and over until she finally passed out._

_Cries from the baby monitor stop him from waking her up for round three. "I'll get him," he whispers as she starts to rouse. "Don't get up." He drops a kiss on those plump pink lips then slides out of bed, slipping on his boxers as he pads down the hall to Thomas' room._

"_Hey Buddy…" he croons, plucking his screaming son out of his crib. "It's okay, Daddy's here now…" After changing Thomas' wet diaper, Jax sits on the futon with his baby cradled in his arms. Stroking Thomas soft blond hair, he chuckles softly as his infant mini-me gifts him with a gurgling, toothless grin._

_During his early days in Stockton, Jax had worried that he'd be a stranger to his boys by the time he finally got out, just like Opie had been to his kids after serving five years in Chino. But it'd been a needless fear since Tara - the motherless little girl with an abusive, absent father - had made sure both boys stayed as close as possible to their Daddy. So Abel, who'd also started demonstrating a remarkable memory that could rival Jax's Crazy Uncle Joe, had no trouble ever remembering him; as for Thomas - to Jax's delight, they'd bonded the instant they met._

"_You hungry? Does Daddy taste good?" Jax laughs as Thomas grabs hold of one of his long fingers and shoves it into his mouth. "Well it's not quite feeding time; we should probably let Mommy sleep for a few more minutes. You okay with that?"_

_Jax's grin widens, his heart melting in his chest as Thomas' twinkling green eyes ensnare him - like mother, like son._

"I don't think it's the Irish," Chibs announces, walking into the ice cream parlor and dropping his cel phone onto the bar. After unsuccessfully scouring Charming's streets for the dark gray minivan that Reese described, the Men of Mayhem decided to meet at Scoops to regroup. "I talked to Fiona, and she said that Roarke and the others are real happy with the new deal. They got on the plane this mornin' to head here to make it final. The Irish Kings were in the air when that bastard took Tommy Boy."

Jax runs a shaking hand through his hair for the millionth time. "Ok, thanks. I just feel we're overlooking something…" He's been wracking his brain, trying to figure out who'd want to hurt him enough to involve his sons. Jarry was right - despite the brutality the different Clubs inflicted on each other, young children were always out of bounds; it's an unspoken code that they - most of them fathers - all lived by.

The Irish were a different matter since they had that side business of selling "orphan" kids for adoption - but even when Abel was kidnapped, it hadn't been the Irish calling the shots on that, just Cameron Hayes' fucked up idea of "son-for-a-son" justice. No, after more thought, it didn't make sense for the Irish to be involved; they stood to make a lot of money with the new deal. Kidnapping Jax's kids would only hurt that arrangement - especially with one Marco DeNotti, Tara's unusual friend, calling the shots for the Italians.

"Any luck there?" Chibs nods over to Juice, who's hunched over a laptop typing furiously under Tig's watchful glare. Upon leaving the hospital, Jax had directed Tig to drive Juice back to Scoops in hopes that they could use Juice's computer hacking skills to identify Thomas' kidnapper from the partial license plate number that Reese had given them.

Shaking his head, Jax stubs out his cigarette and lights another - anything to distract himself from the crushing worry for his baby boy. "Not yet."

_Climbing into the back of the van, Jax glares down at his bound and gagged former Brother, a man he'd once trusted with his life until Juice had betrayed that trust. But now he needs the traitor's help to save Thomas._

"_Tig's taking you back to Scoops. Someone's kidnapped Thomas, and I need your help…" Jax crouches in front of his prisoner who's staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. "If you help me find my son…you and I will be square. You can walk away from all of this clean."_

"Hey Alvarez is here." Happy informs them, peering out the window. "That was some fast riding; Taco Nation must've taken a jet here from Oakland."

"Nah," Bobby corrects him as he climbs out of his seat to follow Jax outside. "He was in Stockton when I talked to him - doing clean up on the Mayan clubhouse….Stockton PD's still all over that place."

Slamming out the door, Jax stops in his tracks at the sight in front of him. Alvarez had come through with Jax's request to bring an army - and then some; Mayans on motorcycles crowd the street - no doubt to the confusion of the town's residents and the chagrin of the Sanwa deputies charged with keeping an eye on SAMCRO.

"Thanks for coming, man." Jax shakes Alvarez's hand, grimly aware of how often Alvarez's intervened to help Jax's family - first when Tara was kidnapped and now to find Thomas.

"_Are you willing to let your family pay the price for your mistakes?" _ Patterson's haunting words ring in his ears; although Jax's grateful for the help and concern for his boys, it fucking kills him that he's always putting the people he loves so much at risk. He's already lost Tara; now Abel's in the hospital again - reeling from the guilt of letting his little brother and his Mommy down - and Thomas…

Jax once again tries to ignore the near paralyzing terror grinding at his bones; he can't bear the thought of his sweet baby boy at the mercy of some crazy fucker bent on punishing SAMCRO for some perceived wrong. What if they can't find Thomas in time - what if Jax can't save the precious life that he and Tara created together? Fear and grief swamp him at the thought of never again watching Thomas' sparkling green eyes - so like Tara's - light up, never again hearing those infectious giggles or warbling attempts at conversation, never again cradling his baby in his arms and feeling those small fingers pluck at his beard or that soft, chubby cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"We'll find him Jax." Alvarez grips his shoulder reassuringly, no doubt recognizing the crushing anxiety that's snared Jax in its icy grip. "I got my guys doing patrols all around Stockton and Oakland - if he got that far - discreet and all, so we don't spook the fucker. They all got the info on the minivan and partial plate number that you texted me."

Jax attempts a smile but fails miserably. "Thank you," he rasps hoarsely then leads Alvarez and a few other Mayans inside. "We're trying to ID the driver based on what we have of that plate number. But if you or your guys hear anything on the ground about someone having a beef with me or SAMCRO, I want to know."

Nodding, Alvarez slides into a booth opposite Jax. "You got it, esé. But I got to ask…Do you think that, maybe, this is real personal - that the guy who took your son also killed your wife?"

Suddenly the image of Gemma covered by swarming ants and the sound of her agonized screams fill his head; he waits for the regret, the guilt to hit him for what he'd done to his mother. But just like when he killed Wendy, he feels nothing - absolutely fucking nothing. Maybe it should bother him that he's now a full-blown sociopath, but it doesn't - not in the goddamn least. "No, it's not related," he hisses through clenched teeth.

Alvarez raises a brow at Jax's definitive, yet uncorroborated answer but keeps silent - to Jax's relief; he's got no desire to talk about the psychotic bitch who ruined his life, especially not when they need to focus on getting Thomas back.

"For a minute we thought it might be the Irish, pissed off about our new arrangement - they've tried to destroy us before, blew up our Clubhouse. But don't worry…" Jax rushes to assure the Mayan President before concern over losing the deal could take root. "We talked to one of them over there, and Roarke and his altar boys are good with you taking over; they were 30,000 feet in the air when that bastard took my son."

Lighting a cigarette, Alvarez remains impassive but Jax could sense his relief; after losing the Galindo cartel income, the Mayans have been relentlessly seeking other opportunities to earn - it'd been why they chose to initially piss off Jax by setting up a charter in Stockton. Taking over distribution of the Irish guns from SAMCRO, especially with the new pipeline of Italian money…well that was like fucking MC Christmas.

"I'll leave some of my soldiers here in case you need them." Alvarez nods over at a handful of Mayans standing at the bar. "The rest of us will split north and south of here, and my crew in Oakland will cover the Bay. We'll get your boy back."

Jax shoots SAMCRO's former nemesis a tight, grateful smile as they shake hands. "Hey Marcus…" he calls out impulsively when Alvarez rises to leave. "Do you ever think about getting out? Leave all this shit and run for the hills? You got a wife, young kids…do you ever wonder what it'd be like not to worry all the time - about them, about staying whole?"

Alvarez slides out of the booth without saying a word and - for a moment - Jax wonders if the other biker king's going to ignore his questions, chalk them up as ramblings of a man who's gone batshit crazy.

Instead, Alvarez places his hands on the table and leans in to peer into Jax's face. "I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about it. We all think about it…about some peaceful-as-shit-life where all you got to do is work at some 9-to-5 shit job then go home to play with the kids and have sex with the wife. It's a goddamn pipe dream, Jax; guys like you and me - we can't walk away. MC's too deep in our blood, and it'll always follows us no matter what we fucking do…" Alvarez's face hardens as he straightens and steps back from Jax. "Look at Nero…he was so ready to get out - take his son and move to a damn farm. But in the end, he couldn't walk away and this life took him out."

* * *

"_He's beautiful…" Jax cradles his newborn son in one arm, pulling Tara closer with the other. She'd brought Thomas here on visiting day, just days after giving birth, so that father and son could meet for the first time. Gazing down at the precious bundle in his arms, he feels tears sting as his baby boy peers up at him. "Nice to finally meet you, Thomas…I'm your old man."_

_Tara giggles and strokes his cheek. "Now that would be obvious to anyone…he looks just like you. Even Gemma says so."_

_Capturing her hand, he presses it to his lips as he continues to marvel at their son - slowly scanning every adorable inch of Thomas Teller. "I was hoping he'd have your eyes." Although Jax loves that Thomas resembles him, he wants all his kids with Tara to have her stunning mossy green eyes - to be a perfect blend of the two of them._

"_And I was hoping that he'd have those gorgeous Teller baby blues…just like his Daddy, his big brother and his Uncle Tommy." It'd been Tara's idea to name their son after Jax's little brother, whom they'd both adored and still missed to this day. "They're blue right now but that can change over the next couple of months."_

_Jax lowers his head to kiss his baby's velvety soft forehead. "Did you hear that, Buddy? There's still a chance that you'll get your Mommy's pretty green eyes. Then you'll have no trouble at all gettin' chicks to drop their panties for you."_

"_Jackson Teller!" Bursting into laughter, Tara smacks his shoulder. "You're not turning my son into a man slut."_

_He blinks innocently at her. "You say that like it's a bad thing…" His teasing grin fades as he loses himself in those deep green pools. "Christ, you're so beautiful." Pressing his palm against her silky cheek, he strokes her plump pink lips with his thumb. "You sure you're okay?" For as long as he lives, he'll always regret not being there for her every day during her pregnancy, that he hadn't been with her in the hospital room holding her hand while she labored to bring their child into the world._

"_I'm fine, Jax," Tara assures him, tweaking his goatee. Wrapping her arms around him and Thomas, she rests her forehead on his. "Especially now. I love you, Baby."_

_It seems improbable in this setting - this grim prison visiting room surrounded by killers, drug dealers and other assorted fucked-up criminals - that he could feel such soaring happiness, such exhilarated contentment. Staring into her beautiful face, he loses his sense of place and time as her warm smile melts his brain and kicks his heart into overdrive. "I love you."_

_After kissing her soundly, he fixes his gaze back to Thomas - living proof of his and Tara's intense love, their bond. Entranced, Jax's grin widens as the sweet baby boy gurgles and wriggles in his arms; unable to resist, he bends his head, brushing his lips across Thomas' soft cheek. "And I love you too, son."_

He's going to lose his goddamn fucking mind sitting here doing shit; leaping out his chair, Jax stalks towards the door intent on combing the streets once again for that fucking gray minivan. However, the urgency in Tig's voice calling his name stops him in his tracks.

Whirling around, Jax tries to tamp down the tiny spark of hope at the tempered satisfaction on both Tig and Juice's faces. "I think we have something." Tig nudges Juice forward.

Juice glances at him nervously, pointing to his laptop. "I hacked into the DMV database and found a gray Dodge Minivan with license plate numbers that matches the partial we got…Jax, the record on file says it's a commercial vehicle for Diosa - registered to Colette Jane."

What the fuck? Stunned, Jax just gapes at him - Colette's fucking dead; a victim of a not-so-pretty dismembering in the showers at Stockton women's jail. Apparently some of the other inmates hadn't taken kindly to the fact she'd serviced some of their men. Was it possible some crazy, devoted john of hers had connected Jax to her death?

"Oh shit, Jax…You know who'd have access to her car…" Bobby voices the hideous thought that immediately slams into Jax head with the force of a baseball bat. Holy fucking shit!

Shaking with rage, Jax pulls out his phone and punches redial of an all-too-familiar number. "You goddamn piece of shit!" He barks into phone, as his call's answered on the first ring. "What the fucking hell have you done with my son?!"

"Well, well Handsome Jack, it certainly took you long enough…"


	21. Beannachd Dia Dhuit

**AN: So this is it, the end of the story (along with the Epilogue). Thanks so much for sticking with me!  
Everything I know about cocaine, I learned from TV or Googling, so sorry if something looks weird.**

**PS – To the Guest reviewer who was concerned about a flashback in the last chapter of Tara taking newborn Thomas to visit Jax in prison: I completely agree with you. That said, the scene was inspired by the pre-S4 appisode entitled "Second Son." If you haven't seen it, you should definitely watch it online because it's fantastic.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 20: ****BEANNACHD DIA DHUIT**

"_Goddamn it! I knew this would happen." Snarling in angry frustration, Jarry presses the phone closer to her ear so she can hear Cane's response over the pounding in her skull - oh what she would give to be able to crack some fucking skulls right now…starting with Jax Teller's. "We don't have time for this stupid shit!"_

_Closing her eyes, she struggles to rein in her temper; screaming at her deputy won't get them shit. "Tell Martinez and Eglee to shadow those guys. The rest of the team stays on the Amber Alert. I'll give Stockton PD a heads up."_

_She tosses her phone onto her desk then looks up to meet Nick Reese's angry blue glare. Channeling a battered, bad-tempered Brad Pitt fresh from Fight Club, he'd stormed into her office and demanded an update on Thomas Teller's kidnapping. But before she could tell him anything, Cane had called with his annoying-as-fuck-news._

_"What the hell…you're taking people off the Amber Alert? Are you out of your fucking mind?" He lashes at her in furious disbelief. "We need every goddamn badge out there looking for that kid!"_

_Shaking her head, she smirks sardonically. "Yeah, well now we're not the only ones…Apparently SAMCRO's called for reinforcements. According to Cane, Marcus Alvarez and about a dozen of his Mayan amigos just rolled into Charming. They're with Teller now, plotting fuck knows what…" _

_She rubs her forehead to soothe the stressful throbbing. "It's going to be hard enough to find this kid, but now we got to deal with all these assholes playing MC detectives. I can't have this county turn into fucking Guantanamo Bay with SAMCRO and the Mayans doing the waterboarding. This is exactly what Patterson was afraid Teller would do when his wife got killed...I should've listened to her and locked up that son-of-a-bitch."_

"_Well so far he hasn't done anything," Reese snaps at her. "And now his focus is on finding his son, which is what you should be doing - not worrying about a bunch of thugs on motorcycles. One. More. Time - what's your progress on finding the boy? So fucking help me - if you say you're nowhere, I'm calling in the FBI."_

_Jarry raises an eyebrow at him, her suspicious-cop senses tingling once again; over the past few days, she's started to suspect that the Chief Deputy Attorney General's involvement in the Roosevelt-Knowles murder case hasn't been motivated solely by political gain. His completely out-of-character open distress over what happened to the Teller boys, not to mention the fresh Batman band-aids adorning his face, all point to something else entirely. She plucks a piece of paper off her desk and shoves it at the insufferable asshole. "From the vehicle description and partial plate number you gave us, we were able to trace the registration back to Colette Jane."_

"_What?" Reese snatches the paper from her hand and glares down at the document in confusion. "She got killed in a jail fight. You think one of her johns had a beef against Teller? Why go after his kids? Anyone with a damn brain would know what kind of heat that would bring - from both sides of the law…"_

_Jarry notes with interest how he crushes the paper in his white-knuckled grip. "I've got people looking into who else might've had access to that car. But shit, it could be a long list…the madam opened her legs to nearly every dick in Sanwa County. The question is why any of them would want to hurt Jax Teller through his family."_

_Reese leaps out of his chair and starts pacing, his jaw clenched as if trying to control his temper. "What about the other partner in the drug business? The ex-cop? You said he's dirty. What if he didn't like the fact Teller fucked his favorite whore? Or somehow connected Teller to her murder? After all, she might've had motive for killing Tara…and no alibi."_

_Tara…Jarry's ears perk up; there it is again…so subtle that she hadn't noticed initially - the slight softening, almost caressing, tone in his voice when referring to the late Dr. Knowles by her first name. Most people probably wouldn't have heard the slight inflection, but Jarry's always prided herself on not letting anything escape her notice; it's what's kept her alive and kicking ass all these years. But now's not the time to grill Reese on his motivations; no they have that poor kid to find first._

"_Charles Barosky…yes, since he was Colette's partner and long-time 'friend,' he probably would've had access to the vehicle. And he loosely matches the description of the man who kidnapped Thomas Teller." She holds up a hand to silence Reese before he starts raging at her again. "Unfortunately, we issued an APB for Barosky's arrest a couple of days ago but haven't been able to find him. I suspect he got word from his cronies in the Stockton PD that we have a jail cell waiting for his ass and got the hell out of Dodge. He could be in Mexico or Canada by now…it doesn't make sense that he'd risk his freedom, not to mention his fucking life, just for some petty revenge against Teller. Charlie's a crooked son-of-a-bitch, but he's not stupid. Far from it."_

_Reese stalks towards her; bracing his hands on her desk, he leans in until she can see nothing but the cold fury in his eyes. "Then I suggest you get your ass out of that goddamn chair and go out and do your GODDAMN JOB! Talk to Barosky's cop friends…find out where the motherfucker is - I'm sure at least one of them will know. I don't give a shit what kind of 'persuasion' you need to use, I'll back you. But you find him, you hear me? You find him and you find Thomas or the only badge you'll be wearing is the one they give to crossing guards in Yuba City. Are we fucking clear on this?"_

_Jarry glares at him in silence for a heartbeat before nodding. "Crystal," she hisses through gritted teeth, slowly rising to her feet._

_Picking up her phone, she shoves it into her pocket as she watches him turn to leave. "You never did tell me why you were hanging out in the hospital parking lot this morning." She calls after him. "Or why you're so unusually distraught over this kidnapping…I hate to say it, but Amber Alerts aren't exactly uncommon; I know you've prosecuted your share of child abductions. There must be something really special about the Teller boys… I don't know - maybe something about their mother?"_

_Reese stiffens and whirls around to face her, his expression thunderous. Bullseye._

"_I'm not sure what you're implying, Lieutenant," he seethes coldly. "But in California, all Amber Alerts should be treated seriously. If caring about what happens to your constituents - especially the young ones - is such an alien concept, then maybe selecting you as Sheriff Roosevelt's successor was a mistake."_

_Oh yeah, she definitely hit a nerve; one that could cost her job, but it's too late to stop now. "Maybe so…You know, I was told that I was hand-picked for this job - that the Governor and the Attorney General thought I would be best suited to continue Eli's work until the next election. And that I'd have a sure-fire chance of getting elected if I caught the killer - or killers - of a decorated, dedicated public servant and a young mother of two young children. Now I wonder if the fact that Eli was my mentor and close friend had any bearing on that decision…"_

_Crossing his arms, Reese pins her with a chilling stare as if daring her to go any further. She wonders if anyone's ever challenged his motives before - and if they survived it professionally. Outwardly, Nick Reese may appear to be a charming, charismatic man of the people - having been groomed for leadership since birth - but Jarry knows what a heartless bastard the man could be. In addition to hundreds of incarcerated criminals, there were countless fellow attorneys, members of law enforcement and former co-workers who could claim that encounters with the ruthless side of Nick Reese had scarred them for life. _

_She pinches the bridge of her nose at the thought of career suicide. Fuck it, if he fires her on the spot - so be it; she's fucking sick of dealing with this asshole and his goddamn state-sized ego. "If I think back to everything that's happened on this case - what stands out is how you made sure we focused on Eli's murder, even though Dr. Knowles was clearly the primary victim. You knew Patterson would jump at the chance of prosecuting a capital murder case - and you knew about my rage over his death and how I'd move the earth to find his killer…" _

_Jarry marches over to Reese until they're toe-to-toe, then tilts her head up to return his glare. "What did you think would happen, Nick? That I'd be so intent on finding Eli's killer that I'd be blind to all the other shit happening right in front of my face? Was I not supposed to notice that when we went to Teller's house the other night, he seemed to know you…even though you'd said you'd never met him before?"_

_Surprisingly, Reese's anger appears to ease up a few microscopic degrees as he regards her with an assessing, almost admiring glimmer in those icy blue eyes. "Interesting...Sheriff Roosevelt taught you well. Okay, Lieutenant…you find that little boy - safe and unharmed - and I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Then his features harden once again as he leans in to hiss in her ear. "But if anything happens to him - anything at all - I'll make your life a goddamn living hell."_

* * *

"You are out of your goddamn mind!" Jax roars into the phone, gripping it so tightly that he almost expects it to shatter in his shaking hand. "It would be fucking suicide to hit that place in the middle of the day!"

As he listens to Barosky warn about the repercussions if his demands aren't met, Jax fights like hell to control his consuming rage; he can't afford to piss off the fucking prick and endanger Thomas any further. "All right! All right, goddamn it! Just don't hurt my son…Give him back to me unharmed, and I'll get you whatever the fuck you want. Please."

Barosky chuckles with satisfaction. "You see? We've always worked good together. You got two hours to make it happen; I'll call you then to give you directions about the exchange. And Jax…don't forget that I have eyes and ears all over this county. I'm a nice enough guy to let you bring in a few guys - the ones at your table - 'cause you're gonna need their help to take back what belongs to me. But you tell anyone else about our little deal - including your wetback friends or that bitch Sheriff and her fucking stooges - and well, let's just say it would be a tragic thing for this little guy to go out like his mother."

Jax's blood freezes, his heart careening into his throat as his brain painfully flashes to images of Tara's bloody body, of the autopsy photo of her fractured skull - and then of Barosky with a knife poised above small, defenseless Thomas. "No," he croaks hoarsely, grasping the table to avoid falling to his knees. "I won't…"

"That's good to know," Barosky replies smugly, obviously relishing his new-found power over Jax. "I heard all about what happened to her; what a fucking shitty way to die…" The sadistic bastard gleefully twists the dagger deeper into Jax's gut - into the gaping, bloody wound that will never heal. "I bet it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch..." He pauses deliberately, as if savoring Jax's anguished silence. "So I'm glad we understand each other - now get to it, your little boy's counting on you."

The line goes dead just as Jax loses the tenuous battle with his rage. Picking up the closest chair, he hurls it against the wall, then another and another until he's red-face and heaving amid a pile of broken, splintered wood.

Turning to face his Brothers, he tries to calm his ragged breathing. "That crazy bastard wants me to break into the evidence locker at the Sheriff's office and steal back all the drugs seized from Diosa - twenty fucking kilos of blow. He'll trade the shit for Thomas…we've got two hours until he calls back with the directions for the exchange."

"What the fuck, Jackie?" Chibs' eyes nearly bug out of his head. "We're supposed to just walk into cop central and pick up a couple dozen bricks of coke like fuckin' eggs at a grocery shop? Barosky's connected enough to know that he's demandin' the impossible."

"…although, he probably has a few ears on the ground over there," Bobby surmises. "There's an Amber Alert out for Thomas so most of the cops will be out looking for him…which could mean a bare bones crew in the building."

"Yeah, but that's not gonna include the guys guarding the evidence locker," Tig argues. "Although we get them out of the way, the drugs should be easy enough to find. I heard that nothing's changed in that place since Trammel was in charge…the good old days."

The red fog lifts from Jax's vision as the answer hits him - it could work, he tells himself as he quickly runs the plan scenarios in his head. Yeah, it could definitely fucking work. "Ok, I know what we have to do, but we got to work fast…starting with getting intel on all of Barosky's dirty cop friends."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Bobby asks as they drive his van to their destination. "I know we got to get Thomas back, but this seems like there's a better chance of us getting arrested and thrown in jail - for life. And that won't help your boy…either of your boys."

Jax shakes his head; he knows Bobby's right, but what choice does he have? His baby boy needs him. "Just stick to the plan, Bro. It'll work…it has to." Running a hand through his hair, he stares unseeing out the window. "How did this happen, man? How the fuck did we get here?"

"I ask myself that question every day," Bobby mutters, watching a convoy of Sanwa sheriff SUV's race down the opposite side of the freeway - more or less confirming his guess that they'd be breaking into a near-empty Sheriff's office. "Got no answers. Just a whole pile of shit I'd've done differently."

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Jax stares down at his wedding ring. "Yeah."

"_Tara Knowles-Teller…I do love the sound of that." She fingers the pendant of the necklace he'd given her last night, dropping a quick kiss on the engraved platinum disk before letting it slide to rest against her pale skin. Turning towards him, she strokes his face then presses an even longer kiss to his lips._

"_Me too, Babe." Jax pulls her closer to him, sliding his hand down her back to caress the soft skin where his tattoo marks her as his._

_He's wanted to marry Tara since he turned sixteen, but there'd been no rush - together, they had all the time in the world. But then a few days ago she'd blown him away with the news that she wants to move away to go to college…then begged him to go with her. Leave Charming, his family, his Club, his dad's legacy? Was she fucking serious? How could she possibly expect him to walk away from everything? _

_Reeling from outraged disbelief, he'd lost his temper and flamed a fight with her that split them apart for a week - seven goddamn days of pure fucking misery that he'd spent mostly on a run to Eureka, pissing off his Brothers with his distracted, half-assed work and shitty attitude. Not that Jax could blame them; almost every second of his too-fucking-long separation from Tara he'd spent wracking his brain over how to convince her to stay, make her see that the life he could give her here would be so much more than one they'd have to struggle to build somewhere else - especially once he takes over the Club._

_So he'd spent every dime he made on the run (and borrowed some from Opie) to buy the platinum necklace that'd drawn his eye in Eureka; it'd been perfect for her - simple yet stunning - as well as an ideal stand-in for the ring he'd give her someday, someday soon._

_After listening to him grovel for forgiveness over the asshole way he'd acted, she'd hugged him tight then eagerly agreed to go away with him for a weekend camping trip. He'd hoped that at their special place - the lakeside park at the base of Mt. Walker, where they've always been the only people in the world - he could convince her to stay with him. _

_But Tara being Tara didn't do the expected; she'd blown him away, not only with the news that she'd already received college acceptances at three schools, but also with the painful reason why she had to leave. "I can't be my mother, Jax…" With a sinking heart, he'd listened to her tearful, yet firm resolve not to repeat her mother's ill fate - wallowing in depression and bitterness over all her lost dreams and opportunities until the day she fucking snapped and took her car for a swim in the river. As much as he wanted to fulfill his father's legacy, Tara was determined not to follow her mother's._

_A while back, Jax had read a passage in a book that "some birds aren't meant to be caged…their feathers are too bright"* - as much as it hurts, he realizes that someone as brilliant as Tara shouldn't be stuck in a dead-end town like Charming; she'd always be so much more than just an Old Lady. But the question that burns at his gut and every other part of him - how can he possibly let her go?_

"_It's so beautiful up here." Shifting in his lap, she leans against his chest to take in the breath-taking view from the top of the mountain that they'd hiked. "Sometimes I wish we could stay right here forever…just you and me."_

"_Yeah?" He kisses her bare shoulder. "Let's do it…Chief Charlie won't mind; I think I can convince him that we're part Wahewa."_

_She giggles and runs her fingers through his hair. "That would be something…" Growing serious, she turns in his arms to face him. "You know, we can still come back here, Jax…If you leave with me, we can still come back here for visits - as much as you want."_

_Staring into her pleading green eyes, he feels his heart crack a little. How can he possibly make this fucking choice - the girl he loves or the future he's dreamt about since childhood? "I don't know, Tara." He shakes his head. "The Club's always been my future…what my dad left me. What would I do in Palo Alto or Berkeley or San Diego? Work in a garage and wait for you to come home from school?" _

_Now it's Tara shaking her head, her eye wide and incredulous. "Jax, you are the smartest person I know - there's nothing you CAN'T do. You've got a GED so you could apply for college if you wanted. Or you could write - I remember the papers you did for school…you're a beautiful writer, Jax." She brushes her fingers against his cheek, beaming him a dazzling smile that sends his pulse skyrocketing. "Don't you see, Baby? All you have to do is want something, and you find a way."_

"_What I want…" Grinning, he pushes her to lie flat on the blanket then covers her with his more-than-eager body. "…is more mountain sex." Basking in the sound of her musical giggles and the feel of her silky arms wrapping around him, Jax gazes down at the most beautiful girl in the world. "I love you, Tara."_

_Pulling his head down, she kisses him softly. "I love you, too. So much. Promise me that you'll think about coming with me." She tweaks his goatee then brushes her fingers across his lips. "Promise me that you'll think about a life different from the Club and Charming - one where you'd be safe from all that…bad shit, one where we can be together. Please, Baby..."_

_Taking her hand, he presses a kiss to her palm. "Okay, I'll think about it." He rests his forehead on hers. "I promise."_

* * *

"Ok, I got to admit…that was fun." Tig yanks the black baseball cap off his head as he watches Bobby, Happy and Chibs work quickly to load the duffel bags filled with pure grade cocaine into the back of Jax's SUV, hiding them in the false bottoms of crates filled with motorcycle parts - souvenirs from those dark days muling for Galindo. "Definitely got the adrenaline pumping. Now all we need is some tight pussy and…"

"Tig…" Bobby shakes his head reprovingly, not-so-subtly-nodding in Jax's direction as a reminder of their desperate situation - one that had Happy calling in a fucking bomb threat to the Sheriff's office. Since the feds handle all threats to government property, all remaining deputies and employees had to evacuate the building until the FBI got there.

It'd given them enough time to sneak inside and steal Barosky's cocaine from the evidence locker, then escape through one of the seldom-used side doors; shit, they'd been able to get to their destination - a block away - on foot by the time they heard the blare of sirens.

"Barosky's going to be calling me soon. Everyone clear on the plan?" A small, grateful smile tugs at Jax's lips as his Brothers fervently confirm their readiness; warm affection for them spreads through him, temporarily supplanting his near-paralyzing rage and fear. "Okay, let's do this…"

Jax slides into the driver's seat of the SUV then watches as Bobby drives off in the van with Chibs, Tig and Happy following on their bikes. As if on cue, his phone starts vibrating - Barosky calling to confirm that Jax had his "property" then barking out the address for the exchange before hanging up.

Reaching into his pocket, Jax pulls out the small platinum disk from Tara's necklace then presses his lips to the smooth metal. "Don't worry, Babe. Our boy will be fine; I'm gonna get him back and we're all getting the hell out of here. I won't break that promise, Tara. I won't."

After driving a few miles, he turns on a dirt road only to catch sight of flashing cop lights in his rear-view mirror. "Oh shit," he mutters, pulling over and killing the engine. Rolling down the window, he watches as two Stockton PD cops approach, drawing guns out of their holsters as they walk towards him. "Anything the matter, officers?"

"Step out of the car," one of them orders when they reach his SUV.

Not wanting to create any unnecessary - and possibly dangerous - conflicts, Jax complies without argument, slowly opening the car door and stepping outside with his hands held up.

"This vehicle was reported stolen," the bossy cop growls, pointing his gun at Jax. "Turn around and put your hands against the door."

Jax gapes at him incredulously. "It belongs to my wife…I can assure you that she didn't report it stolen."

His protests fall on deaf ears as the other cop slams him against the car and starts patting him down for weapons. "We need to search the vehicle," he hisses in Jax's ear. "Pull the keys out of the ignition and give them to me...Now!"

Unease shoots down Jax's spine as his near-infallible danger alarm kicks into high gear; these douchebags aren't your regular, everyday asshole cops. Slowly reaching into his car, Jax retrieves the keys and tosses them to the closest guy, who - appropriately enough - reminds him of Weston, the Nazi prick who'd worked for Ethan Zobelle before Jax had ended him. "You got a warrant?" he can't resist asking, just to fuck with them.

"Don't need one, smart ass," the Weston clone sneers and hands the keys to his partner. "We've got probable cause since we suspect this car was used in the commission of a robbery…which means you're in deep shit, pal. So you may want to exercise your right to remain silent and shut the hell up."

Opening the SUV's tailgate, the other cop eyes the crates with satisfaction then smirks at Jax when he discovers the contents in one false bottom. "Well, well…you are officially fucked, pretty boy - grand larceny, possession with the intent to distribute…on top of your scumbag criminal record - you'll be in the state pen until hell comes for you."

"Which is why…" Nazi cop cocks his gun and aims it at Jax's chest. "…you attacked us in an attempt to escape so we had to kill you in self-defense."

"Only if you want your families dead as well," Jax counters ominously, murder in his eyes as he glares at the dirty cops. "If you don't want them slaughtered where they stand, then drop your guns and tell me where Barosky's keeping my son." He watches as the cops exchange startled, uneasy looks. "It's obvious you know who I am - so you know what I'm capable of doing…but what you pricks don't want is your families learning first-hand what a monster I can be. It's a one-time, permanent lesson."

Nazi cop tightens his grip on his gun, but Jax can smell fear on him - he reeked of it. "Bullshit!" he spits out nervously. "You're lying, you don't even know who we are!"

"Don't I?" Jax snarls. "You're Carl Donaldson, Charlie Barosky's partner for 20 years at the Stockton PD. And you…" Jax glares at the other cop - who'd already lowered his weapon, his eyes wide with alarm. "Ted Rubin…Barosky was your training officer your rookie year. Now it's sweet that you're all still so tight…but is he worth losing every goddamn thing that matters to you?"

Both cops look sufficiently rattled but Donaldson continues to point his gun his gun at Jax, who narrows his eyes menacingly. "You don't believe me? Check the phone in my pocket, asshole." Jax motions to the right pocket of his hoodie as Rubin approaches him. "Oh, I forgot to mention - the phone's on; my guys are listening to our little talk, waiting for me to give the go-ahead to end life as you know it."

Rubin pulls out the phone and nearly drops it as horror spreads across his face. Jax nods approvingly at the man's reaction then smirks at Donaldson. "Don't think your partner likes the pictures some Mexican friends of mine just texted me…of them following his wife and son walking home from school."

"You son-of-a-bitch…" Rubin gasps. "You sick son-of-a-bitch!"

Jax shakes his head. "Doesn't feel good, does it? Some asshole using your fear for your family to manipulate you? Now don't bogart the phone, dickhead…I'm sure Donaldson here will just love seeing his daughters hanging with their new friends…pretty girls - they're sixteen and eighteen, right?" Jax taunts as the older cop pales at the sight of Montez and West cozying up to a pair of blondes who strongly resemble their father. "Good thing my guys don't care how old the pussy is - just as long as it opens wide."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Donaldson screams, hurling the phone to the ground and pointing his gun at Jax's face. "I'm gonna blow your goddamn head off…"

But his aim wavers at the sound of Tig's voice piping in from the phone. "You might want to re-think that, Adolf. I got a clear shot of your ugly face, and I'm just itchin' to pull the trigger…"

"…and then we wipe out the whole next generation of dirty Stockton PD," Jax adds darkly. "I knew Barosky would pull this shit - just wasn't sure which assholes he'd send after me. So we got cover on everyone who matters to you and all the other crooked pricks that Charlie's got in his pocket. I like to cover all my bases…Now drop your fucking guns. NOW!"

As both men grudgingly comply, Jax picks up the closest gun - his hard gaze never leaving the clearly shaken cops, who pale even further at the roaring sound of approaching motorcycles. "Glad you boys can appreciate the importance of family." Jax presses the barrel against Donaldson's forehead. "You have five seconds to tell me where my son is…or you and your daughters stop breathing. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SON?!"

* * *

"_You know there's nothing that happens in this town that I don't find out about, Jackson." Jax can feel the heat of his mom's wrathful glare as he works under the hood of Floyd's ancient Buick. Looking up, he almost shudders at the look on her face - it's the same one that's shriveled men's balls from here to Tacoma. Fuck, he's not looking forward to this talk, especially since he's pretty sure why she's so pissed._

_Walking away from the car, he drops his tools on the work bench and wipes his hands on a towel. "And what did you find out, Mom?" Returning her ominous scowl with a defiant look, he crosses his arms across his chest - ready to protect himself once she starts throwing shit at him._

"_Tara's leaving for college…At least that's what I heard from that dried up Mrs. Conroy in line at the grocery store. Is it true?"_

_Swallowing hard, Jax lights a cigarette; he's still not made a fucking decision. All he knows that it's getting harder and harder to spend time away from her - yeah, it's always been that way for the two of them, but now there's a deeper sense of urgency to be together knowing that her time in Charming has an end date. "She's not leaving for a few months - hasn't even decided on the school yet."_

"_I don't give a shit about when and where she's going," Gemma snaps. "All I want to know is whether she's going alone." Getting into his face, the Queen of SAMCRO regards him warily. "I just hope you're not letting your dick lead you to places it shouldn't go."_

"_Shut up, Mom! It's not like that!" Incensed, he shoves his tools to the ground. Goddamn, he fucking hates it when people assume Tara's main draw for him is some hole for his dick. She's much more than that. So much more. Christ, you'd think his mom would know that by now given all the shit she's given him over the years about his and Tara's "unhealthy obsession" with each other._

_Gemma's eyes narrow for a microsecond before growing warm as she changes tack. "I know that, Baby." She rubs his arm. "I see the way you look at her…how you are together. I've been a teenager in love before, I know how it is…But we're talking about something much bigger at stake here - everything your father worked so hard to build, all the men in all the charters who'll one day look to you to lead them. You can't turn your back on that, Jax. A Teller belongs at the head of that table…It's what your father would've wanted - for you and, one day, for your son."_

_The uncertainty that's been gnawing at him since Tara made her decision takes a deep bite into his ass. Fuck, what the hell's he going to do?_

* * *

"Good riddance…" Happy declares - a bit too cheerfully for someone who'd just snapped another man's neck. But now that's three of Barosky's goons they don't have to worry about - provided that those fucking clowns Donaldson and Rubin do what they're supposed to do. Barosky wants his two dirty cop friends to bring the drugs to him…so that's what going to happen - with a little alteration.

Both men had sworn they knew nothing about Thomas, insisting that they'd planned to meet Barosky at a friend's cabin, isolated in the hills near Vallecito, where they'd planned to split up the drugs - most likely he'd have the little boy with him there. So the fucking son-of-a-bitch's hiding out in Calaveras County - beyond the reach of the San Joaquin County Sheriff…but not Jax.

After the cops loaded the drugs into their police car, Jax'd ridden his Harley out of Bobby's van so that they could split up once they all reached the cabin. Donaldson and Rubin would lure Barosky outside with the drugs and keep him distracted while Jax, Happy and Bobby sneak in the backdoor of the cabin and find Thomas. Chibs and Tig would shadow the dirty cops, waiting in the wings to pounce on Barosky once Jax signals that they got Thomas out safely. Kill all the others, but not Barosky - no, Jax wants that special privilege reserved for himself.

Silently, they slip through the darkened kitchen and into the hallway; Jax's heart, already racing a million fucking miles a minute, leaps into his throat at the sound of Thomas' cries piercing the air - profound relief that his son's still alive clashes with brain-numbing terror over what could be causing his baby pain.

Jax motions for Happy to stand lookout - in case Barosky or one of his minions comes back inside - then he and Bobby dash up the stairs towards the direction of Thomas' cries. Crashing through the door with his gun drawn, Jax scans the room quickly and nearly topples over in relief at the sight of Thomas alone, still strapped to his carrier, screaming for the world to acknowledge his needs.

While Bobby guards the door, Jax races over to the crying baby and drops to his knees. "Hey Thomas…It's okay…," he croons, shaking with eagerness as he unbuckles the little boy from the carrier. Jax knows that they don't have much time before all hell breaks loose outside, but he can't stop himself from running his hands across Thomas' wriggling body to check for any injuries - finding none, Jax releases the breath he'd been holding and cradles his precious son tight against his chest, burying his face in Thomas' soft blond hair. "It's okay, Baby Boy…It's okay…Daddy's here now…Daddy's here…"

Feeling a slight tug on his beard, he pulls back to gaze down at Tara's gorgeous mossy green eyes in their son's sweet face. His throat tightens and mouth curves into a broad grin as Thomas stops crying and beams up at him. "Daddy!" he chirps, patting Jax's cheeks with his chubby hands.

"Hey, we got to go." Bobby hisses, snapping Jax back into reality. "Hap said they've started bringing in the crates; only a matter of time before someone comes up here looking for that other guy to help." Before they'd left for the cabin, Donaldson told them that Barosky had two other SPD cops with him; Happy had dispatched the one stationed at the back door, which means the other one's outside helping with the drugs.

Jax nods then quickly buckles Thomas back into his carrier. "Okay, Big Guy, we got to go now. But I need you to do me a big favor and be super quiet..." He presses a kiss to the little boy's cheek and hopes like hell he understands; Thomas flashes him another gap-toothed smile and, as if answering his Daddy's request, remains silent. Smart kid, just like his Mommy.

Picking up the carrier, Jax joins Bobby in the hallway then freezes at the sound of Barosky's voice downstairs.

"We can go out this way," Happy whispers, pointing to one of the other rooms. "There's a balcony - with stairs that go down to the back yard. I saw it when I was stashing the body."

Exhaling in relief, Jax follows his Brother into the room and down the stairs. "Hap, when we get out of this, I may have to kiss you."

"Get in line," Bobby mutters as they duck behind the bushes outside the glass patio door. They're about to make a run for the van when blasts of gunfire shatters the relative quiet.

"Oh shit!" Jax exchanges horrified glances with Bobby; Chibs and Tig wouldn't have shot first unless they'd been discovered. "I need you to get Thomas out of here." He hands the carrier to Bobby. "Don't stop until you get to Charming…take him to the hospital so they can make sure he's okay."

Turning to Happy, who looks like he's ready to join the gun fight, Jax shakes his head. "No, Brother. I need you to go with Bobby…make sure my boy gets back to Charming safe." With his finger, Jax pokes at Happy's Men of Mayhem patch. Hard. "You kill anyone and everyone that gets in the way. No one hurts my son. You got it?"

At Happy's resolute nod, Jax hugs both his Brothers, thanking them profusely, then drops down to one knee to face his little boy…who hadn't uttered a peep in all this madness. "Your Mommy and I are so proud of you…" He brushes his thumb across Thomas' velvety cheek - just as soft as Tara's - and kisses his forehead. "I love you, Thomas. So much."

* * *

"What the fuck happened?!" Jax roars as Chibs presses his sweatshirt against Tig's bloody shoulder. Rage swamps him, even though the former medic assures him Tig should be okay; this cluster-fuck could've endangered Thomas - had they got to his son a few minutes later…fuck, he doesn't want to think about his sweet baby boy in the middle of a gunfight.

After Happy and Bobby had driven off with Thomas, Jax had stormed back into the cabin to find Donaldson (how the fuck did that asshole get an AK-47?) and Barosky's other dirty cop firing steadily out the front windows. Using the element of surprise, Jax had pulled out his gun and blown a hole in the back of the Nazi-looking fucker's head, splattering blood and brain matter against the wall and the other dirty asshole cop. He hadn't given the other man the chance to recover from his shock, emptying the rest of his clip into the shithead's face and chest. No one fucks with Jax's family without paying a bloody price.

"That prick Donaldson…when Barosky said they'd be able to get $2 mill for the blow, he grabbed a gun from the other guy and shot his partner…" Snorting in disgust, Chibs nods at Rubin's dead body a few feet away. "Then he started shootin' at us. Guess his daughters ain't worth his share of the money. Fuckin' dickhead...How's Tommy Boy? Bobby get him out of here?"

Nodding, Jax peers down at Tig's injury. "Yeah, headed back to Charming…Happy's with them, just in case they run into any more of Barosky's goons - he'll make them sorry." Speaking of making someone sorry… "Where's Barosky?" Jax demands, looking around…even if the man's dead, he wants to cut the motherfucker into pieces for what he did to Thomas and Abel.

Chibs and Tig exchange uncomfortable glances before Tig answers, grimacing in pain. "The chicken shit took off when the shooting started…jumped into the cop car while the others ran into the house. I tried to shoot out the tires, but missed - it's not as easy as it looks on fucking TV."

"Shit…" Jax takes off for his bike. No fucking way he lets that crooked son-of-a-bitch escape; his sons will never be fully safe until Barosky's worm food - and Jax's determined to stick him into the ground personally.

He locates his Harley, hidden in the trees near where Bobby's van had been, then rides back to where Chibs is helping Tig to his feet so they can walk to the house. "Call Alvarez," Jax orders over the roar of the engine. "Tell him to bring his doc out here to help you patch up Tig…and tell him to bring a cage, unless Tig wants to ride bitch behind some Mayan hombre." He smirks at his fucked-in-the-head Brother. "Although Tiggy might prefer that."

"Fuck you, man." Tig flips him the bird then grimaces again.

Jax's small smile vanishes as he stares at both of his Brothers intently. "Thank you," he tells them simply, gripping Tig's free hand in a firm clasp then accepting a hug from Chibs. Raising his hand for one last wave, Jax guns the engine and takes off to eliminate the last obstacle keeping him from making good his promise to Tara - taking his family out of Charming forever.

* * *

"_Goddamn, I missed you," he breathes against her neck, hugging her tight against him. Actually they'd only been apart for a couple of days - certainly not their longest separation - but every second away had been fucking endless. Not just because he actually did miss her, but also because he'd made his decision and didn't want anyone or anything tipping her off before he could tell her. And because he hoped that maybe, just maybe he could change her mind about leaving._

_Twining her arms around his neck, she inspects the bruises on his face with worried eyes. "I missed you too, Baby. Are you sure you're okay?" At his amused nod, she tilts her head towards the Clubhouse, where a party welcoming home the MC rages inside - it was a rough two-day run. "How long do we have to stay at this thing? I want you all to myself."_

"_Let's get out of here now. You know I'm always happy to offer my body when you want to play Doctor," he teases, sliding his hands down her back to squeeze her perky ass. "And besides, we need to talk…"_

_She raises a brow questioningly but before she can probe further, Tig pops out the Clubhouse door to tell him that Clay wants to talk to him - NOW. When Jax hesitates, the asshole strides towards them and offers to carry Jax inside._

_Scowling at his douchebag Brother, Jax grabs Tara's hand and tugs her along with him towards the party. No fucking way he's letting her out of his sight, not for a second. "Ten minutes," he whispers in her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulder._

"_Over here!" Clay waves him over to the bar where he's standing with Gemma. "Son, you did us proud yesterday…" He hauls Jax into an embrace, splitting him apart from Tara. "With Otto inside for the next six years, it looked like we could be in for some rough times. But the way you stepped up - taking out those Mayans, saving Chibs…well, shit - you more than earned this." Reaching into his pocket, Clay pulls out a Men of Mayhem patch and presses it into Jax's hand. "Good job."_

_Jax grins as elation and pride soar through him. He can hear his Brothers cheering and whooping but before he can turn around, his mother wraps her arms around him. "Congratulations, Baby." She smiles at him, satisfaction swimming in her eyes as they drift to focus on something just beyond him. "I knew you'd make the right decision."_

_Oh shit. Jax freezes as the import of what just happened slaps him upside the head. Pushing away from Gemma, he shoots her a withering look before whirling around to face a pair of inscrutable green eyes. Maybe because of the years surviving torturous abuse from her asshole father, Tara could always close herself off better than anyone he knew. A blank expression on her beautiful face scared him more than anything - including his mom, his SOA Brothers or any of the other psychotic fucks he's met with or without a cut._

_Grasping her hand before she can bolt, Jax drags her off to the apartment to a chorus of whistles and hoots from his Brothers assuming that he and Tara can't wait to celebrate in their usual way. If only. Unfortunately, given her quiet stiffness, whatever heat that'd been burning inside her for him now seems frozen to ice. _

_After ushering her into the room, Jax leans against the closed door and jams his hands into his pocket. "I'm so sorry, Babe. I wanted to tell you myself." He swallows hard when she remains silent and just stares at him; fuck, he hates when there's distance between them - it makes him feel so goddamn lost._

"_I promised you that I'd think about leaving, Tara. And I did…shit, it'd been all I could think about. I even got to the point where I thought I'd do it, just so that we could be together. But then after Otto got sent up to Stockton, I realized that I need to stay here. If I go with you, SAMCRO will be even more shorthanded - which means someone could get hurt or worse. What just happened with the Mayans will happen again, but the next time…it could be Opie or Piney who catch a bullet because I'm not around to have their back. I just can't live with that, Babe."_

_Practically holding his breath, he waits for her to say something - anything. But the reaction he gets is the last one he wants as tears start sliding down her cheeks. "Oh shit, Babe. Don't…" He rushes over to haul her into his arms, knowing that she could easily turn around and slug him - which would actually be preferable; hell, he'd rather be shot than see her cry._

"_I'm sorry," she sniffles, swiping at her eyes before leaning into him. "I just feel so selfish - wanting you to come with me…I didn't think about anything else."_

"_I know," he kisses her forehead. "I'm the same - expecting you to stay here with me…I didn't think about you wanting to go to college, becoming a doctor." _

_Tara meets his gaze with tear-filled green eyes. "So where does that leave us? I have to make the decision on a school next week." But before he can respond, she grabs his hand almost franticly. "Can't SAMCRO get someone else from another charter? Kozik seems to be here a lot - can't he take your place? Or sign on more Prospects? I can defer my acceptance and wait for you if you need to train someone." She stares at him imploringly, as if she'd bundled all the hope left inside of her for one more desperate chance at convincing him to leave with her. "Please, Jax. Please, just try to find someone else to take your place. Come with me."_

_In his nineteen years, he's had more than his fair share of pain and hardship. But nothing - not Tommy's death, or even his dad's death - was harder to take or hurt more than this. Cupping her wet face in his hands, he struggles with his own composure. "I love you, Tara…" His eyes blur as pained regret stabs at him. "…but I can't."_

* * *

The isolation that must've attracted Barosky to the cabin's location actually plays into Jax's favor; surrounded by lakes and hills, there's only one two-lane road that leads anywhere for nearly a hundred miles. Also, given the time of year, there aren't many drivers on the road so even if Barosky uses the lights and sirens on the stolen cop car as carte blanche to drive at high speeds, it won't help him out-run Jax - nothing will…not a goddamn fucking thing.

_Mercer Caverns - 5 miles_

Jax's laser focus on Barosky wavers as he's suddenly bombarded with old memories of that fateful grade school field trip - when he'd tumbled down one of the cave's steep cliffs and broke his ribs and shoulder, when little Tara - his field trip buddy - had nestled beside him and gripped his hand for hours while they waited for someone to find them. It hadn't been the first time she'd held him while he hurt and it sure as hell hadn't been the last.

Hitting the gas on his bike, Jax pushes to max speed as a cop car appears in the distance. He pulls out his gun but wants to be closer before he fires - to confirm it's definitely Barosky and to make sure his bullets spill the prick's blood. As he nears the car, it accelerates - proving to Jax that the dirty ex-cop's behind the wheel.

Jax shoots out the back window of the car, which temporarily swerves into the next lane but continues to race ahead. "Come on," he mutters, gunning his engine. Pulling even with the driver's side, he points his gun at Barosky's head. "Son of a bitch!" he bellows as the fucker veers sharply, shooting through the open window and striking Jax in the thigh.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Jax speeds forward and blasts a hail of bullets into the car, which starts to slow - indicating that Jax hit his target. But as he pulls even with Barosky, the car swerves wildly - slamming into Jax's bike and plunging them both down into the steep ravine.

The booming explosion penetrates Jax' pain-fogged brain, and he forces his eyes open to watch the flames engulf both the car and driver - finally, the end to that goddamn fucking bastard. But satisfaction's short-lived as his entire body screams in agony. "Christ," he gasps, lifting a bloody hand to rest on his wrecked Harley pinning him to the ground. Closing his eyes, he succumbs to the darkness.

"_Wake up, Jax. Please wake up. Please, Jax. Please…" _ His eyes flicker open to the vision of eight-year-old Tara crying over him, just like that day in the cave so many years ago. Despite the near-blinding pain, a slight smile tugs at his lips…she'd been such a pretty little girl, so grown-up, so serious. His little brother, Tommy, had adored her - and so had he.

His smile widens as the sweet-faced little girl morphs into the gorgeous woman who's owned him for more than half his life. "Hey, Babe." He grasps her hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing tight. "I've missed you so much."

"_Jax, you have to hang on. They're going to find you…You're going to be okay, Baby. Just hang on…"_

"I was wrong, Tara," he wheezes. "I should have left with you…the first time." Then summoning all his remaining strength, he lifts his hand to touch her cheek; it's just as velvety soft as he remembers. "…love you, Babe…more than anything."

"_I love you too, Baby." _She strokes his face._ "But Jax, please…You have to take care of the boys. They need you…"_

"No…" Gazing into those green eyes he's loved so much for so long, he knows that his sons would be better off without a father who's dead inside, better off with someone else who could give them a real family, a happy childhood.

Oddly enough, his thoughts drift two men - one that he'd loved and one he'd hated; Opie and Frank Knowles couldn't have been more different except in the fact they couldn't cope with losing the women they loved. Opie hadn't drowned himself in booze like old Frank, but he'd been just as desperate in trying to escape his pain - rebuilding his life by rebuilding his family; in the end, like Tara's asshole dad, Jax's best friend couldn't make it work - how do you keep going when your heart's gone? As much as he loved his kids and tried to love Lyla, Opie really had nothing left inside to give them. Just like old Frank had nothing to give Tara.

Because of the fateful decision made by his nineteen-year-old self, Jax's already been through that long, lonely hell of life without Tara - and as he presses her pale hand against his bloody lips, he knows absolutely that he can't do it again. It's why, just days ago, he'd given Rosen such specific directions on what to do if anything happened to him - almost as if he'd been planning on this, almost as if he'd been counting on it.

Grimacing in pain, he pushes aside the collar of his sweatshirt and tugs on the chain of his bullet necklace - the parting gift she gave him the day she left for college. "Remember when…" he coughs, trying to talk despite the 700 pound Harley crushing part of his chest. "…you gave me this? Remember what…you said?"

Smiling sadly, she nods and brushes her fingers against the chain and his skin. Suddenly they're both nineteen again and it's the second worst day of his life…_She pulls something out of her pocket. It's a gold chain with some sort of pendant. She puts it over his head and lifts the pendant that he realizes is a gold bullet. "Please take care of yourself, Jax. Don't let one of these get you….We may be going separate ways, but I wouldn't want to live in a world if you're not in it."_

"Same for me, Babe…" He coughs again; the pain so intense, it's getting harder and harder to breathe. "Abel…Thomas…they'll be fine…better off…" Clutching both of her hands in his, he laces their fingers tight as if he'll never let go - and he won't. Not ever again. "Please Tara…please, Babe…don't leave me…"

She hesitates for a moment, as if wondering if their sons would be truly better off without him. Then flashing that dazzling smile that's made his heart pound since childhood, she drops a kiss on his forehead and then a longer one to his lips. _"I'm here, Baby…I'm here."_

Truly happy for the first time in weeks, Jax feels no pain as Tara nestles against him - where she belongs, where she's always belonged. Then locking eyes with the love of his life, Jax Teller smiles.

* * *

*From _Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption _by Stephen King


	22. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

He tells himself that he's not nervous; Dr. Abel Teller doesn't get nervous. As a pediatric surgeon, he's the one who calms nerves - those of his small patients and their parents - not fall victim to them. But driving back to WH Motors, he realizes that the odd discomfort in his hands had everything to do with clutching the steering wheel a bit too tight.

Bobby Munson was waiting to meet him…Bobby Munson, one of his dad's SAMCRO "Brothers" and one of the few people who could probably answer every question he's got about Jackson Teller - a man Abel barely remembers. For most people, it wouldn't be unusual to not remember someone they hadn't seen since early childhood. But not Abel - he's always had a freakishly good memory; it's always bothered him that he could remember his mother with such blinding clarity yet so little about his father.

Abel's mouth curves in a fond smile, like it does every time he thinks of her; Tara Knowles-Teller may have died when he was young, but she never left him. He can still remember how her face lit up every time she saw him, how she laughed every time they played or read together, how tightly she always held him when he was hurt or scared. Abel's always been a man of science - but knowing the circumstances of his birth, he can't help the fanciful notion that Dr. Knowles must've imprinted herself on him when she fixed his damaged little heart and torn stomach, compliments of the Teller family flaw and the drugged-out junkie who gave birth to him.

But for some reason, Abel draws mostly blanks when thinking of his father - even when he combs through all the old photos of his parents, which he's done hundreds of times over the years. Also - as much as he loved growing up in the close-knit Murphy household - it hadn't helped his unbalanced memory of his parents. There'd been no shortage of stories about his mother; Aunt Margaret and Uncle Dave had been her friends and could talk about her for hours - answering all his and Thomas' eager questions about the other children she'd saved, how she'd even saved Aunt Margaret from a crazy kidnapper and - mostly - how much she adored her little boys. However, neither Aunt Margaret and Uncle Dave nor any of their kids could tell them much about Jax Teller - just that he'd been a complicated man who loved his family.

The sound of his phone buzzing through the car's blue-tooth receiver jars him from his thoughts. Glancing at the caller-ID, Abel smiles wryly - talk about another one of his mother's old friends. "Hey Uncle Nick," he greets cheerfully, mentally bracing himself for the lambasting that Nick Reese - make that California Governor Nicholas C. Reese - wreaked on anyone who didn't do what Nick thought they should do. Most people probably found that insufferable or terrifying or both, but he and Thomas eventually learned to endure it with amused affection - even though Uncle Nick never lived with them, he'd been just as big a part of their lives as the Murphys.

Having gone to college with her, Nick also had a slew of great stories about Abel and Thomas' mom. They loved hearing how smart she'd been, how much she'd accomplished - but also, how she could sometimes cut loose and have fun. That's what Abel likes remembering - how much she smiled and laughed.

But like Aunt Margaret and Uncle Dave, Nick knew nothing about Jax Teller - or at least nothing he'd admit - going into shutdown mode or abruptly changing the subject any time Abel or Thomas would ask questions about their father. Abel hadn't thought much of it until he discovered why - years ago, during a weekend trip he and Thomas spent at Nick's place, he'd gone into Nick's room to look for car keys and found a small picture album featuring a young, college-age Tara Knowles - obviously they'd been a couple, obviously he'd been crazy about her. Yeah, so it makes sense why Nick wouldn't want to talk about the man who married the woman he loved.

"I just talked to Thomas…you want to tell me what the hell you're doing?" Nick demands, not bothering with pleasantries and going straight for the meat.

Tapping his fingers on the wheel, Abel tries to decide how much to divulge; he knows Thomas wouldn't have revealed shit about what they planned to do - like him, his brother idolized Uncle Nick, but they'd both agreed to keep this plan between the two of them. And no one could keep a secret better than Thomas Teller - that kid could've been a spy.

"Just visiting some family," Abel answers innocently. It's not a lie; while in town, he's been staying with Uncle Dave's sister - Julie Murphy Oswald had remained in Charming when the rest of them moved to Baltimore, not long after that fateful day when Tommy had been kidnapped and their father died.

Abel can actually _hear_ Nick's eyes rolling in disbelief. "Oh really?" scoffs the man who'd taught him how to bullshit effectively. "Your first week as a California resident, and you decide to spend it in _Charming_? That place is a shit hole."

"Says the Governor of the state," Abel hoots. "I'm sure your constituents here would appreciate your assessment of their lovely town. Don't forget, Thomas and I were born here…and so was Mom." When the other man remains silent, Abel decides to change tack; they've always been honest with each other (most of the time), it shouldn't change now. "Look Uncle Nick, I got to do this…All my life, I've had these questions…it's time to get some answers while I still can - this guy's not going to be around forever."

Abel hears him sigh resignedly; even highly successful politicians know when to concede. "Ok, Doc." Even after all these years, Nick's pet name for him still makes Abel smile - despite the heartrending circumstances that had led to its origin. After Thomas' rescue from his kidnapper, Abel had refused to leave his baby brother's side; Nick had charged into their hospital room to find him patching up Thomas' injuries that he'd thought the hospital staff had missed with bandages from his backpack.

"I'm going to be at my house in the City tomorrow night," Nick informs him matter-of-factly. "I expect you and your brother there for dinner at eight. I'll call Rachel." The phone disconnects before Abel can protest - not that he would; he hasn't seen the bossy old guy in months - far too long. Besides, after what happens today, they might need their old friend.

Driving onto the WH Motors lot, Abel feels chills race down his spine - just like it had yesterday when he'd first arrived here looking for Bobby. He still vaguely remembers this place - remembers coming here with his mom, back when the garage belonged to his family. Flashes of his grandmother's face attack his brain, only to be forcefully shoved out; he can't bear to think of that murderous bitch, not now - not ever.

Abel's not sure what he expected Bobby Munson to look like after all these years; he just remembers that, when Margaret told him that he and Tommy would be living with her family, he'd tearfully begged for his daddy's picture box - it'd been the big, hairy man who'd brought the redwood chest to him. So it's a bit of a shock to see the stooped, scrawny man with neatly clipped white hair and beard waiting for him in the garage parking lot - especially when the fragile old guy throws his bony arms around him in a tight embrace.

He shoots a questioning glance at the garage owners - Kenny Winston and Mo Harland - over Bobby's white head, only to have them grin broadly at him.

"Oh shit…sorry," Bobby pulls back then starts swiping at the wetness from his eyes, but the wide smile remains plastered on his face. "Boy, you are the spittin' image of your old man…You know, I was at the hospital with him the day you were born."

Abel shakes his head. No, he hadn't known that - but that's why he's here, to fill the gaping holes in his history. "I was hoping we could talk…about my dad." At Bobby's eager nod, Abel leads him to sit at the picnic table so the older man could be more comfortable. "Tommy's on his way here, can I get you anything to drink or eat while we wait for him?"

"Nah, I'm good…So how was growing up back east?" Bobby continues to stare at him like he can't quite believe he's really there. "They treat you okay? You look real good. Your brother's coming here, too? How's he doin'?" Apparently the ex-biker has as many questions as Abel does.

A sad smile tugs at Abel's lips at the thought of his adopted family. "They took real good care of us - couldn't have asked for better. We lived in Baltimore…that is until Aunt Margaret passed a few months ago. After Uncle Dave died last year, she went downhill pretty fast." He still feels sick inside at losing them both in such short succession; the thought that they're together again helps a little, but a day doesn't go by that he doesn't miss them both.

"I just moved to San Francisco, started a new job at UCSF Hospital in their neonatal practice - following in mom's footsteps, I guess." Abel can't help the surge of gratification that fills him; it hadn't been easy, but he's now a board certified surgeon - just like his mom.

Somehow Bobby's grin widens even further. "That's great, Kid. She'd be so proud of you. Tara was a hell of a doctor, you know - patched us all up more than once. I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her…."

"You and me both." Feeling his eyes start to sting, Abel pats the man on the arm then switches to a safer subject. "Thomas lives in San Francisco with his family - it's the main reason I accepted the hospital job there." A satisfied smile spreads across his face; it'd taken a shit ton of planning and negotiation, but finally he and his brother will be living in the same town again. The last few years he'd spent finishing his residency at Johns Hopkins had been rough with Thomas, Rachel and their sweet baby girl living across the country.

"Holy shit, little baby Thomas is married with a kid?!" Bobby's rheumy eyes widen in shock. "Is he a doctor like you?"

Abel chuckles at the other man's astonishment; no doubt in Bobby's mind, he and Thomas are still little boys. "Yeah, Tommy's a bit of an over-achiever. He's a writer, and a damn good one - got a ton of awards and a book on the best seller list right now. Kid's a genius." Abel's chest swells with pride; there's not a finer person on the planet than his little brother. "And yeah, he's been married for a few years. Rachel - our next door neighbor growing up - wrapped him around her finger the second he discovered girls. They got married right after college."

"Sounds familiar," Bobby muses. "You needed a crowbar to separate your mom and dad in high school…just took a little longer to get married. How 'bout you?" Bobby eyes Abel's ringless hands. "You not settled down yet?"

Abel tries not to roll his eyes over the question he got almost daily from Aunt Margaret, Rachel and his various female friends and co-workers; somehow he hadn't expected it from this grizzled ex-biker. "Nope. Not in any hurry…got way too much on my plate right now." It's not as if he doesn't like women, actually quite the opposite - Abel Teller loves women. He wouldn't exactly call himself a man-slut but he dates when he can and, more-often-than-not, takes advantage of what women offer him - just like Uncle Nick, California's bachelor governor, who attends state events with a rotating parade of socialites and supermodels. But secretly, Abel holds out hope that one day he'll find someone - someone smart and strong, beautiful and benevolent… someone just like the girl his dad married.

"So how old's Thomas' kid?" Bobby breaks through Abel's thoughts. "Hard to believe Jax's got a grandkid now. He would've loved that."

Smiling fondly at the thought of his niece, Abel pulls out his phone. "She's three. Most beautiful little girl in the world." He selects his favorite snapshot of him holding his sweetheart - a dark haired little moppet with sparkling green eyes - and hands the phone to Bobby. "Her name's Tara."

* * *

If Bobby had been stunned by the adult version of Abel Teller, he'd fucking bugged out at the sight of the two brothers together - it'd been like staring at clones of young Jackson Teller. But after the initial shock wore off and they'd sat back down at the table, he'd started noticing the subtle differences. Abel's definitely got Jax's coloring, the wheat blond hair and those intense blue eyes - but he's also quieter, more reserved than his old man had been. On the other hand, Thomas' hair's just a shade darker blond and he's got his mother's eyes - but he's definitely Jax to the hilt with that same room-stealing swagger, that fuck-you-smirk.

But what's perfectly clear - the tight bond between the two brothers; it's like those two could talk by reading each other's minds. Jax and Tara hadn't lived to raise their sons, but Bobby knows they'd be so goddamn proud of how the boys turned out.

"So after Aunt Margaret died, her kids decided to put the house on the market. While we were cleaning out all the stuff, Tommy and I found these…" Abel places a packet of small notebooks on the table. "Our dad's journals - he'd written them for us." The two Tellers exchange a silent look before Abel focuses that intense stare back on him. "We don't remember him, Bobby - Tommy was too young, and I…I just draw a blank. These journals gave us insight into a man who loved his wife, his kids, his motorcycle club…but also a criminal who _killed_ people. We're just having a hard time reconciling those things…Can you help us? We want to know who our father was."

Bobby fiddles with the string binding the notebooks together. He'd been the one to find the journals right after Jax died; after seeing an entry addressed to Abel and Thomas, he'd bundled them up and gave them to Margaret Murphy to give the boys when she thought they'd be ready to read them. Apparently - in her mind - that day never came, but at least she hadn't destroyed the notebooks.

"Also, based on what we can figure, the entries stopped right before our mom died," Bobby can't help but gape when Thomas pipes in - the boy even sounds like Jax. "Aunt Margaret, Uncle Dave, Uncle Nick…they all told us some stuff about what happened to mom…who killed her…but we can't help but think that there's more to it than what they told us. We deserve to know what happened - she was our mother."

Scratching his beard, Bobby glances at both boys, intrigued by their mixed expressions - Thomas, so fiercely determined (just like his old man), and Abel…The kid's trying to hide it, but Bobby can see pain in his eyes; even after all these years, Tara's death still haunts him. Not that Bobby's surprised, that boy had loved his mother; after she died, Abel had been almost as shattered as Jax.

Christ, he knew this would happen…Once Moby called with the news that Abel Teller was looking for him, Bobby just knew it'd mean dredging up those up those fucking painful ghosts that he'd tried so hard to put behind him. Tara's murder had destroyed Jax, and the resulting fall-out ultimately blew apart SAMCRO as they knew it.

Juice had been the first to go. Because of his help that'd been critical to finding Thomas, Jax had pardoned him for that shit with Nero and Devany - he'd been free to walk away. But instead, their troubled Brother decided he wanted to go through with Jax's original plan - get caught burying Unser's body and other evidence that implicated him in the Roosevelt/Knowles murders, then in exchange for expediting the death penalty, Juice confessed to killing Roosevelt because of the bad history between them and to protect Gemma Teller after she'd murdered Tara. And then he and Gemma had killed Unser to protect their secret. A few days before Juice's execution, Bobby had gone with Chibs and Tig to visit him on death row; it'd been emotionally crushing for all of them…except Juice, who - for the first time in years - actually looked at peace.

Not long after they buried Jax, both Chibs and Tig (of all people) decided that they were done putting the MC ahead of the ones they loved, neither of them wanting to repeat Jax's mistakes. Chibs had blacked out his ink then bought a one-way ticket to Ireland to reunite with Fiona and Kerrianne; last year, he'd sent Bobby a picture of him and Fi with their _great_-grand-children. Tig stayed in town, married Venus and started a successful career partnering with Lyla in the porn business - along with Chuckie, that fake-fingered weirdo with nine lives.

SAMCRO did wind up surviving with Quinn, Happy, Montez, West and Rat along with a bunch of nomads - but not in Charming; by a special vote, they were able to move the charter to Santa Cruz to be closer to the Club's new sources of income - strip joints and tattoo parlors up and down the southern Bay Area. Bobby hasn't talked to any of them in years, but he likes to think that they're all still whole and riding.

So it'd been kind of happy ending for everyone - even he'd been okay left here in Charming, he's fine with his quiet life. It's just that from time to time he misses a certain brash tow-headed kid with a cocksure smile and a heart as big as fucking Yosemite. He'd thought those dark days after Tara's murder had been some of the worst…until they got the call that Jax was dead, his body crushed by his own bike. For Bobby, nothing was really ever right again.

As Jax's sons stare at him expectantly, he stands up and signals to Kenny. "Let's go for a ride." He smiles at their surprised expressions. "In the van…my back's too shitty for anything but cages now. I want to show you boys something…we can talk on the way there."

* * *

Thomas once had an English teacher who used to tell them that when all the details fit perfectly, something's probably wrong with the story.* Although they'd been talking about writing at the time, he'd always felt that the cite could apply to him.

On paper, the details of Thomas Teller's life have always fit perfectly: growing up in a loving family - never suffering over problems about health, money, school…nothing. And now, everything's even better with a wife he loves, a little girl he adores and a writing career that's fulfilling both creatively and financially…and with Abel - the big brother he's idolized for as long as he can remember - finally living in the same town, life's truly perfect.

Except that there's something wrong with the story.

He'd been too young to remember his parents or anything about his and Abel's life in Charming. Rather, his earliest memories had been in Baltimore with Abel telling him stories about their mom, showing him pictures of their family from his big wood box and playing all the audio books that she'd recorded specially for them. Funny, it'd been those books that drew him to Rachel - after so many years of continuous playback, the voice chips had started to wear out, to his and Abel's horror; even though they'd outgrown the little kid stories, they still loved hearing their mother's voice. But he knew that Rachel - the quiet, brainy girl next door - could fix anything so he'd brought them to her; she'd worked her Mensa level IQ magic and somehow managed to save the audio recordings to newer, state-of-the-art chips that would never wear out. That afternoon, eight-year-old Thomas Teller helped saved his mother's books and fell in love for the first and only time.

It'd been Rachel who'd taught him how to scour the internet for details that no one would tell him about his parents' death, and it'd been Rachel who'd hugged him tight while he cried after reading about his mother's violent, brutal murder. And over the years, it's been Rachel (along with Abel) who's told him over and over that he shouldn't blame himself for his father's fatal accident. But Thomas' brain - always churning, endlessly turning thoughts and ideas round and round in his head - can't let anything go.

According to the small handful of old news stories he could find, Tara Knowles-Teller had been murdered by her mother-in-law to prevent her from leaving town to give her sons a better, safer life away from their father's notorious motorcycle club. And his father…Jesus Christ, his father died saving him from a kidnapper.

And so that's what's wrong with all of his perfectly fitting details - there'd been too steep a price; his parents had sacrificed themselves so that he could have this life. Thomas' smart enough to know it's not rational to question his worthiness - but growing up, he'd wondered and doubted and pushed himself hard to excel at every goddamn thing whether it be school, sports, writing…He succeeded at everything, but it never seemed to be enough.

It'd been Abel, always the perceptive older brother, who'd realized what Thomas was doing and verbally smacked him upside the head when he started college and decided to give up writing for pre-med because that's what their mother would've wanted. _"Mom would've wanted you to do what makes you happy, Tommy. I bet she'd kick your ass if you didn't."_ Easy for Abel to say…he'd been pre-med himself at the time, already on a path to fucking saving babies for a living. But, as usual, Thomas took his brother's advice and, as usual, it turned out pretty damn good.

The incessant voices in his brain questioning his worthiness finally quieted the day Thomas became a father; nothing could be more perfect than his precious baby girl. Being with Rachel, holding her hand as she brought their daughter into the world - he finally got it, finally understood that parents would endure anything, sacrifice everything for their children. Just like his parents had done for him and Abel.

But although his self-doubts disappeared, the questions he's always had about his parents remained - especially after he and Abel found their dad's journals hidden away in Aunt Margaret's house. Which is what led them here - in Bobby Munson's ancient van, headed to-who-the-fuck-knows-where.

When he and Abel decided to learn more about their dad, they weren't sure exactly where that road would take them or where exactly to start. The P.I. he'd hired to find some of their father's ex-SAMCRO Brothers led them to Bobby, who worked at WH Motors, and Alexander Trager, a partner in a porn production business. He and Abel actually thought about hitting up the porn king first - they were guys after all. But then the P.I. dug up a report showing that Bobby Munson had been the one to deliver young Thomas safely from his kidnappers to the hospital. It'd been a no-brainer to reach out to him after that, and a no-brainer for Thomas to embrace him tightly in greeting.

So far, it's been an enlightening drive…Bobby answering all the questions that they'd pelted at him; slowly, surely a real picture of Jackson Teller - which had been so clouded for so long - finally emerged. Aunt Margaret had referred to their father as a "complicated man" - talk about a fucking understatement. Listening to Bobby, it's clear that this old man had loved their old man. _"I'd known your dad since he was a little kid in grade school…he grew into the best person I ever knew."_ In the past hour, he's regaled them with stories about their dad, portraying a man who'd been loyal, smart as hell, a great leader and absolutely in love with his wife.

"_I remember the day your dad first brought her to the Clubhouse. He'd just turned sixteen, but anyone could tell that she was the one…he couldn't stop looking at her, couldn't stop smiling…Just like the day they got married."_

But then there'd been another side to Jax Teller - an outlaw who ran guns, muled drugs, beat the shit out of people and yes - when necessary, killed. Bobby didn't outright say it, but he hinted that Jax even killed his own mother after finding out that the bitch murdered his wife. By the mix of fury and satisfaction on Abel's face, Thomas could tell that his brother would've done the same. Shit, so would he - a million times over.

"How did Gemma die?" Abel demands to know. "No one could tell us…That bitch stabbed our mother in the head. Don't tell me she went out fast or easy." Thomas shoots another glance at Abel, a little surprised at the good doctor's blood thirstiness. He knows for a fact that Abel's never backed down from a fight - that he could take down anyone with his black belt karate and mean right hook. But Thomas' never known his brother to have a violent or vicious bone in his body…apparently there was one exception.

Even from his profile, Thomas can see Bobby's forehead wrinkling, as if trying to decide how much to tell them; truth must've won out because what the man tells them makes Thomas' jaw drop and his skin crawl. Christ, this wasn't in any of the news articles he'd read - Gemma slowly devoured by flesh-eating ants for days until she finally left for another hell…that's a whole lot of fucked-up. And a whole lot of justice.

"What about dad?" Thomas stares out the window at the deep ravines beyond the protective guardrails. "Did he really die in an accident?" He knows that he's picking at the scabs of his deepest wounds, but he's got to know.

Pulling the car over to the road shoulder, Bobby shifts the car into park - his brown eyes glancing at Abel before fixing on Thomas. "That was a real fucked-up day, Kid…" As the Bobby recounts the events around his kidnapping and rescue, Thomas can see from the pain in the old man's eyes that all of it still haunts him.

"Stockton PD and the Sanwa Sheriff blocked most of the story from getting out…they didn't want anyone knowing how deep the corruption went in the PD or how easy it'd been for us to break into the County evidence locker. They had some help from the state AG's office, the chief deputy strong-armed everyone else into keeping quiet. He wanted the public to believe your dad died in an accident - not because of some gunfight with a crooked cop."

Thomas and Abel exchange stunned glances. "Uncle Nick? He knew about this?" Thomas blurts out incredulously. "Why didn't he tell us?"

"Probably the same reason none of us said shit when the DA started asking questions," Bobby lights a cigarette that he probably shouldn't be smoking given his fragile state. "We didn't want anything to stop Margaret Murphy from taking you boys out of Charming - which could've happened if the whole goddamn story got out and blew up in the media. Reese was afraid that the DA, or some other shithead politician, would try and block Murphy's guardianship to keep you boys in Charming for some shit political reason. And that's not what your dad had wanted…or your mom."

Thomas closes his eyes as the old, yet still painful guilt consumes him again - worse this time knowing that his dad had died, not from an accident, but from fighting the man who'd kidnapped him.

"Damn it, Tommy…It's not your fault." Abel - always the protective older brother - punches his arm. Hard. "How many times do we have to tell you? For fuck's sake, you were a _baby_…a baby strapped to a car seat. There's nothing you could've done to stop it."

Bobby's eyes widen in disbelief. "Listen to your brother, Kid. Barosky was bat shit crazy; even if someone had stopped him from kidnapping you, he would've done something else to try and get at your dad. Besides, you're missing an important point…your dad went after him _after _we found you. You were already safe and on the way back to town…"

Scratching his beard, the old man lets out a deep sigh. "I never talked about this to anyone, not sure I can even explain it right - but I guess you both deserve to know what was in his head…First, you gotta understand - your dad loved you boys. He wanted so much for the both of you…which is why he fought like hell to turn the Club legit and earn clean - so that he could give you a legacy that wasn't tainted, like the one he got.

"But when your mom was killed, everything just stopped for him because...well, if you ask me…he died with her. She was a big part of him; had been since they were kids. I never saw anything like it - the way those two loved each other. With her - he had a vision, dreams…a future. But after she died, he was just so lost…You could see it in his eyes. All he cared about was avenging her murder and getting you boys out of town 'cause that's what she'd wanted. He didn't really see a future for himself beyond that…"

Bobby looks down at the wheel, wiping the wetness from his cheeks. "He didn't have to go after Barosky - you boys were safe - the fucking Sheriff could've taken down that prick eventually…he had no money, no drugs to sell, no more connections. But Jax knew he couldn't make it in this life without her; it's why he'd had the guardianship papers ready for Margaret Murphy, why he'd asked Nick Reese to help her get a job far away from Charming."

"Wait a goddamn minute…are you saying what I think you're saying?" Thomas flicks a glance at Abel - who looks as fucking horror-struck as Thomas feels - before narrowing his eyes at Bobby.

The old man shakes his head then turns to pin both brothers with a hard gaze. "Kenny's old man, Opie, was your dad's best friend. He never got over losing his first wife, Donna - Kenny and his sister's mom. Tried to make it work…but he was just lost. A few years later, Opie got killed in prison - sacrificing himself for his Brothers. He'd been looking for an out, and he got one."

Revving the engine, Bobby steers back onto the main road. "I'm not sayin' your dad killed himself - he'd never do that. But going after Barosky the way he did…maybe he saw an out - a chance to be with her again - and he took it."

Watching in silence as Bobby drives on to the Wahewa Reservation, Thomas tries to calm his brain rocketing into overdrive. Shit, it's been a lot to fucking take in…but they'd wanted to know more about their dad, and now they do. Strange though, he's not even the slightest bit angry that his dad might've chosen death over raising him and Abel. As much as he wishes he could've known Jax Teller, Thomas can't regret the perfectly fitting details of his life - Abel, the Murphy family, Uncle Nick, all of his friends…Rachel and their sweet baby Tara.

If his dad had led them out of Charming, there's no guarantee they would've wound up in Baltimore - no guarantee that he would've met Rachel. Thomas doesn't ever want to imagine such a life…not ever. So yeah, he can definitely understand the choice his dad made after losing the woman he loved more than anything…no doubt, Thomas would do the same

As Bobby announces their arrival and parks the car, Thomas peers at Abel through the passenger mirror. He'd also been silent since Bobby dropped his bombshell about their dad's death - but whatever worry Thomas might've had about Abel's reaction disappears as his brother smiles at him, not a trace of anger or hurt in those blue eyes. Grinning back at the best friend a guy could have, Thomas realizes that Abel would also understand their father's decision but for a different reason entirely - Tara, their mother whom Abel had adored, wouldn't be alone.

"Jax used to get special permission from the Wahewa chief to bring your mom here; it's been their place since they were kids in high school…where they'd go to get away from everything." Bobby jumps out of the van and leads them across the meadow to a neat, lushly green clearing at the base of the small mountain.

Surrounded by trees and a tranquil blue lake, Thomas could see why his parents had loved this special spot. Admiring the view, he blinks - once, twice, three times - to make sure he's not imagining shit…but no, he can see them, partially hidden by the trees, but definitely there. His mom and dad - Jax and Tara - with their arms wrapped around each other, her head on his shoulder as they smile lovingly at him.

"It's beautiful…I can see why they loved coming here." Abel's voice pierces the quiet. "But you want to tell us what _we're_ doing here?"

Thomas whirls around to stare at his brother in surprise; apparently Abel hadn't seen them. But before he can say anything, Bobby directs their attention to the ground beneath a sprawling valley oak tree.

"After your dad died, his lawyer told us that he wanted his ashes put into your mother's urn and buried here…I thought you might want to visit…I know they'd want to see the two of you." The old man slowly drops to his knees then pats the small stone grave marker embedded in the grass.

_Jax &amp; Tara_

Standing next to his brother, Thomas gazes down at the simple plaque until wetness blurs his vision. Like Bobby, he also drops to his knees then presses a kiss to the smooth stone. How is it possible to miss his parents so much when he never really knew them? But then again - thinking about all the family pictures, all of the stories recounted by Abel, the Murphys, Uncle Nick and, today, listening to Bobby…maybe he knows them after all.

"You should write a book about all this," Bobby suggests.

Thomas feels Abel's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Maybe, I will," he answers, rising to his feet. Glancing at Abel, Thomas' stunned to see the tears in his blue eyes as he stares intently at something in the trees. He can't remember the last time he'd seen his big brother cry.

"You'd write a book about life in a motorcycle club?" Bobby's eyes start to close sleepily as he leans against the oak tree. "I'd read it."

"No…" Draping his arm around Abel's shoulders, Thomas mirrors his brother's broad grin as they watch their father press a kiss to their mother's forehead. "…about love."

* * *

*from _Burning Down the House: Essays on Fiction_ by Charles Baxter


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